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No. 1338. 


10 Cents. 


vtbporiViUwn bru,* itu the rosi vinv*. . v’ T<.vk, 
a*. -p<x-ni1 clast. inf*Uet', Feb. 4, iSSft. 


HBBI’S 

.1 


BT 


STUART C. CUMBERLAND. 


’VQcr.^ 





Ew York 


t^hyiowm :') 

/ 

‘^'^ShinGTO^’ 





ohn W- Lovell (q/apany 

14 iG V£5EY Street 



Is better than any soap ; handier, finer, more effec- 
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worst of the wear. It isn't the use of clothes that 
makes them old before their time’; it is rubbing and 
straining, getting the dirt out by main strength. 

For scrubbing, house-cleaning, washing dishes, 
windows and glassware, Pearline has no equal. 
Beware of imitations, prize packages and ped^ 

JAMES PYLE, New York. 


LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S 

VEGETABLE COMPOUND 

IS A POSITIVE CURE 

For all those painful Complaints and 
Weahnesses so common to our best 
female population. 

It will cure entirely the worst form of Female 
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Womb and the consequent Spinal Weakness, and 
Is particularly adapted to the Change of Life. 

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M Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound is prepared at Lynn, Mass. Price, $1.00. 

Wx bottles for $5.00. Sent by mail in the form of Pills, also in the form of Lozenges, on receipt 
>f price, $1.00 per box, for either. Send for pamphlet. All letters of inquiry promptly an^ 
wered. Address as aboveo j 




THE BABBI’S SPELL. 

A RUS30-JEW1SE ROMANCE. 


BY STUART c/ CUMBERLAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE HOME* COMING. 

“ Mother, is not father coming home to-night?” 

“Yes, child; why do you ask?” 

“ It is getting so late, mother, and he should have been here 
fully two hours ago.” . , . 

“ True, child, but he may have been detained in Warsaw; 
besides, the night is dark and the wood road is not good.” 

“But, motlier ” 

“ Pray be still, Mira, you weary me;” and the mother leant 
back in her chair with an impatient gesture, and shaded her 
eyes with her hand, as if in deep thought. 

A striking woman was Rachel Rosinsky, wife of Aaron, the 
Jewish money-lender. Her eyes were bright and piercing, her 
hair, which in her youth had been raven black, was now flecked 
here and there with the white of care and age. Her nose was 
large and somewhat hooked, whilst her mouth was firm and 
unrelenting; Altogether, the expression of her face was not 
inviting. 

Her daughter Mira was fair, with that sweet, voluptuous 
fairness peculiar to many Polish Jewesses. She had those deep, 
violet eyes, those passionate, red, pouting lips, that clear com- 
plexion, and waving golden hair, that one so often sees amongst 
the daughters of Israel in Poland. 

Mira was seventeen years of age, and although very deeply iu 
love, was neither engaged nor married. 

The Rosinskys were well-to-do traders, wdio dwelt in a Jew- 
ish community, in a wooded district a few miles outside of 
Warsaw. 

The head of the family, Aaron Rosinsky, was a shrewd man 
of business, of a deeply calculating nature, and possessed of ex- 


2 


THE HABBVS SPELL, 


traordinary precision. In any other country than Russia he 
would have speedily acquired a large fortune and high position. 
As it was, although burdened with the harsh restrictions meted 
out to members of his race in Russia, he was supposed to be 
wealthy, and he was certainly held in great respect by bis 
people. 

Aaron was a strict Hebrew, and, whilst ever ready to help his 
fellow-believers on reasonable terms, charged his Russian and 
Polish neighbors a high rate of interest on any money he might 
advance them. Aaron was, therefore, not much beloved by the 
said neighbors, although no man could say he was either dis- 
honest or unjust. 

On t he present occasion he had gone to transact some busi- 
ness in Warsa w, and he had stated his intention to return home 
at once on its conclusion. The distance between Warsaw and 
his home was not great, and Aaron always walked it, and be- 
ing a man of a meditative character, he often chose the least 
frequented paths, especially one leading through a wood, which 
was shorter and more direct. It was early autumn, and although 
it had been raining bard of late, the day in question was bright 
and fine, and encouraged such a walk. 

Half-dreaming Rachel sat silent in her chair. Not so Mira; 
she seemed most unquiet. The least thing startled her. If a 
piece of burning wood fell from the fire she would start up, or 
turn her head uneasily if a board creaked. She was always a 
highly impre sionable girl, and peculiarly sensitive to outside 
influences, but this night she was exceptionally disturbed, for 
earlier in the day something had happened which had done 
much to unhinge her nerves. 

Mira was in love, and that day her lover had come to ask her 
hand of her father. He had been refused, and high words had 
passed between the two men. 

Geza Polinski was poor, and this was a bad quality in Aaron’s 
eyes; but what vas still worse, he was not a strict Jew. He 
had studied at Kief, and had been imbued with new ideas and 
new habits of living. He knew that the religious rites and prej- 
udices, peculiar to Jews in Russia, were a fatal bar to a proper 
intercourse with the Christians amongst whom they lived, and 
it was the dream of his life to get them removed, so that a bet- 
ter understanding might be arrived at between the Russian and 
Jewish people. 

May be Geza was an enthusiast and a dreamer, but there was 
life in his enthusiasm, and sense in his dreams. His energy and 
desire for progress, which in a free country would have gained 
him renown and success, but made him an object of suspicion 
in the district where he lived, and proved a fatal barrier to his 
love. 

Aaron would have no dreamer, no impecunious philosopher 
as his son-in-law. His daughter was for a man good and true 
according to his code of reasoning — for one who could bring 
money as well as receive it. 

The interview between Aaron and Geza had been a stormy 
one, and they parted in anger; Aaron had thought the young 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 


a 

man presumptuous, whilst Geza had resented his refusal as 
highly tyrannical. The mother had sided with the father; site, 
too, was a strict Jewess, and liked not the young lover’s mode 
of thought and living. 

Such opposition was fatal to Geza’s suit, for Mira was too 
good a daughter to disobey her parents. With a Jewish maiden 
obedience to her parents is above all else. To such blind 
obedience'love would be ever sacrificed. Few Jewish girls, no 
matter how great their love, would ever give their hands where 
they had given their hearts, unless the parental blessing went 
with the giving. This filial obedience amounts to a religious 
duty, and what maid w^oUld dare, even for true love’s sake, to 
risk the wrath and inevitable accompanying curse of her parents 
and her people by setting aside this duty ? Indeed, it would be 
difficult to find a rabbi to make them man and wife. 

Mira still hoped her father would relent from his decision and 
eventually give his consent to Geza’s suit. She knew how great 
his love for her was, and how in everything else he gratified her 
slightest wish. She was deeply attached to him, and had ever 
reverenced him, so that his harsh refusal had come to her as a 
terrible blow. 

In her mother she found little sympathy or consolation; in- 
deed it would have been useless to have sought for it. 

Rachel was a stern mother, but a fiercely loving wife. Her 
husband was all to her, and his every word was law. She never 
disputed any decision of his, no matter how harsh or how un- 
just. 

Not a woixi passed between the two as they sat, each en- 
grossed in her own thoughts. 

Suddenly Mira started up with a frightened look upon her 
face. 

“ Mother,” she cried, in a voice that was strange and fearful, 
“ there is some one knocking,” 

“Knocking, child,” answered the mother, without turning 
her head; “ you are dreaming.” 

“ Nay, mother, I heard a knock.” 

“ ’Tis but the loose plank in the loft swaying in the wind. It 
is often so.” 

“No, mother, it is at the window.” 

Upon the stillness there came a faint weird tap! tap! tap! 
They both heard it. The mother slightly raised her head, list- 
ened, but said nothing. But Mira jumped up from her S('at 
and rushed to the window. She saw nothing. Only the rus- 
tling of the leaves swept by the wind and the creaking of the 
garden gate could she hear, nothing more. No one was in 
sight. The girl stood there a while gazing strangely out into 
the darkness, until her mother’s voice called her away. 

“ Come, come, Mira, what ails you to night? Ah! I had for- 
gotten what happened this morning. Think no more of it, 
child. It is better so.” There was a touch of tenderness in her 
voice as she said this, and she even laid her hand on her daugh- 
ter’s arm. 

Suddenly the flame from the wood-logs went out, shedding a 


4 


THE n ABB VS SPELL. 


blood-red glow on ail around; the lamp seemed to burn dimly. 
An indescribable awe fell over the two women. Neither 
spoke. Then upon the stillness again fell that faint weird tap- 
ping. 

Both rose as by common assent, and looked intently in the 
direction of the window. 

The next moment there burst from Mira’s lips a piercing 
shriek. 

“Merciful Heaven I O mother, he is there 1” 

“ Who, cliild? Bow pale you are.” 

“ It is father, he is pale, and his eyes are staring, blank and 
lifeless. Blood is pouring from his side, and his hands are red 
with blood. He holds a paper in his hand, and that too is 
covered with blood. O God!” and she covered her eyes with her 
trembling hands. A moment later and she fell senseless to the 
floor. 

Racliel looked anxiously out in the gloom, but saw nothing. 

“ Poor child,” she said, “ this comes of giving the heart where 
the hand cannot follow.” 

Hastily fetching a pillow, she placed it underneath her head, 
and commenced loosening her dress to enable her to breathe 
more freely. She was disturbed in her attentions by a loud 
knocking at the door. It startled ‘and perplexed her. 

“ Who can it be?” she said to herself. “ Surely not Aaron, 
that is not his knock, he can come in without knocking!” 

As the knocking was repeated, she left her daughter and 
lifted the latch. 

What a sight met her gaze. Before the half-opened door 
there stood four men, and between them they carried something 
dark. 

The light from the room fell across them where they stood, 
and lit up their burden. It was the body of a man. 

Rachel at once knew who it was, and throwing open the door 
she uttered a cry of horror, and bent toward lier husband’s 
prostrate form. 

He was quite dead. A glance told lier how he had met that 
death. 

He had been murdered. The blood-streaming side, the dis- 
torted countenance, the horrible glaring eyes, all spoke of mur- 
der. 

She fancied she could hear the murdered man’s agonized cry 
for help, that help which apparently never came. 

“We found him in the wood,” said the men, who wore the 
garb of woodmen. “He was lying under a beech-tree, quite 
dead. We knew him. so we brought him here.” 

“ Dead!” Rachel groaned aloud, and for a moment she leant 
over the body of her husband in a paroxysm of grief. 

When she arose, her eyes gleamed fiercely. Her thin lips 
were firmly closed, and on her face there was a hard and terri- 
ble look, a look once seen never to be forgotten. 

It spoke of revenge, bitter and implacable, and by the look in 
her eyes it seemed as if she already knew the one to whom this 
revenge was to be meted out. 


THE RABBI'S SPELL. 5 

“ Aaron,” she hissed through her clinched teeth, Rachel will 
avenge you!” 


CHAPTER II. 

UNDER THE BEECH* TREE. 

It was quite true, Aaron had been murdered. 

His body had been found in the wood leading from Warsaw, 
lying at the foot of a stately beech-tree which stood right in the 
path. 

The news of the murder spread rapidly, and there was great 
commotion amongst the Jews. Loud imprecations were hurled 
at the head of the murderer, for Aaron stood well in the com- 
munity, of which he was cne of the richest members. 

The excitement ran high, and speedily all sorts and conditions 
of men flocked to the scene of the murder. 

But the first to arrive was Mira. Her eyes were red and 
swollen, and her hair disheveled, as she staggered rather than 
walked to the spot. 

Above her, rearing its branches to the skies, was the splendid 
old beech, a tree famous amongst the woodmen for its strength 
and size. 

A bird was singing in the branches. His notes seemed sad 
and mournful. She groaned in horror, for at her feet was a pool 
of blood. Here, then, had her father fallen. She leaned her 
head against the trunk of the tree, and the tears welled into her 
eyes and slowdy trickled through her fingers. 

Nothing disturbed her in her grief. True, the bird still sang, 
and a few ripening leaves, all brown and golden, fell rustling 
at her feet, but she heeded them not. 

Presently a twig snapped and a man’s footsteps were heard. 
He reached the tree, and for a moment paused there. The girl 
had not seen him. 

“ Mira,” he cried as he gently touched her shoulder. 

She started, looked wildly around. 

“ Geza! you here?” 

He said nothing but held out his hands. She took them and 
they looked into each other’s eyes. Neither spoke, but such 
silence told far more than wwds ever could. 

Geza’s deep-brown eyes bespoke a world of sympathy, a world 
of love. How poetic, how graceful the young man looked as ho 
stood gazing into the eyes of the one whom he so deeply loved, 
and who had been so cruelly bereaved. 

Geza was distinctly handsome, of medium height, but lithely 
built. His hair was long and as fine as a woman’s. He wore a 
sort of student’s dress of black velvet which served well to set 
off his graceful figure. 

“Yes, Mira,” he said at length, breaking the silence. “I 
heard you had come here, so I followed you.” 

“ Yes, I came here, I know not why. O Geza, is it not horri- 
ble ?” and Mira sobbed. 

A dark cloud swept over Geza’s face, for he remembered their 


6 


THE RABBVS SPELL, 


parting of the morning before. Only too well he remembered 
the sarcastic tone of the old man as he scornfully refused his 
suit, and his own hot words in reply. Words that were almost 
threatening, but which sprung from a deeply feeling and bitterly 
crushed heart. 

He was disturbed in his gloomy reverie by Mira, who suddenly 
grasped his arm, and cried, “ But he shall be avenged, and may 
be here I shall find the clew to his murderer. Yes, Geza, he 
shall be avenged,” and as she spoke an almost inspired light 
stole over her face. For a moment she breathed her mother’s 
fire. 

As Geza saw it lie felt perplexed. Did she suspect him ? 
How strangely she stared at him, and her gleaming eyes seemed 
to look him through and through. Do what he could, he could 
not meet their steadfast gaze. A curious feeling possessed him, 
presaging coming evil. He was oppressed and gloomy as if a 
black spell were upon him. For a moment he recovered him- 
self as he looked down into Mira’s face and said, “ God help 
you, and be with you, my beloved, in this sad trial.” 

Mira bowed her head as if to join his prayer. 

‘‘ Dearest,” he began, “ I am going away.” 

“Going away?” and a pained look came into her upraised 
face. 

“ Yes, I am going to a new world where one is free to think 
and free to act.” 

“And ” 

The quivering clasp of her hand told him what she would say. 

“ Ah! That is impossible. We can never be more to each 
other than we now are, even if I stay. Your father refused me, 
and your mother would still refuse. ’Tis strange, Mira, I 
feel as if your dead father’s curse were upon me. We parted 
in anger, and God only knows how bitterly I have repented of 
mj hasty words. And to think that this should come!” 

He shuddered, and his voice was husky with emotion. 

“ Geza, forget the past,” and her hand gently smoothed his 
brow. 

“ Would that I could forget, and that in the future I could 
realize that hope which now has been denied me. And yet, the 
future may be full of hope,” he added, his face brightening. 
“ In a new world fortune may come to me — I may still be able 
to win you.” 

“ Where love remains hope never dies, Geza,” and her eyes 
met his as if in inquiry. 

“ Love like ours can never die,” was his answer. “ It is born 
of purity and trust, and cemented in affliction,” and he touched 
her brow with his lips. 

“Beloved, we must part, but we will look forward to that 
good time that ere long will come.” 

There was hope in his voice as he spoke, and his companion 
seemed to be inspired thereby. 

“ Till that good time, then, Geza,” and their lips met more in 
hope than in love. 

Coming footsteps sounded in the distance, and they parted. 


7 


THE llABBrS SPELL. 

By Various paths there came curious excited people, all bent 
tipon one destination, all possessed with tlie same idea. They 
came to visit the scene of the murder — why, they hardly knew. 
The morbid fancy had taken possession of them, so they left 
their work and flocked toward the wood. They gathered in 
groups round the beech, gesticulating only as a Jewish crowd 
can. 

By and by they espied Mira — Geza, at their approach, had 
mingled among them. To her many people went, and proffered 
their sympathy and good wilh 

They felt deeply for her in her bereavement; she was well be- 
loved amongst them, and, moreover, was she not the daughter 
of Aaron, the rich and the just ? 

Amidst the expressions of condolence could frequently be 
heard imprecations on the murderer and appeals for vengeance, 
for the heart of many a Jew there was both harsh and sad at 
this brutal removal of one so eminent amongst them. 

“ Make way for the policel’’ 

As this cry arose, and the sound of horses’ hoofs came near, 
the crowd parted on all sides. A captain of police rode in 
advance and drew rein at the tree. It was Count Nicolas 
Soltikoff. 

A strikingly handsome man was he, although dissipation and 
late hours had played sad havoc with his good looks. At 
first glance he might have been taken for a man of stern pur- 
pose and set resolve. His eyes were a deep soft gray and be- 
spoke determination, but his mouth, partially concealed by a 
long, drooping mustache, betrayed weakness and licentiousness 
of cliaracter. The mouth indicated the man, and his amiability 
and gallantry were but so much veneer. 

Count Soltikoff was, however, hon garcon with his comrades, 
and so far as a Russian official can be, was popular with the 
people under him. 

I have come to collect evidence as to this murder,” he said, 

so in the name of the czar I command you to assist the course 
of justice,” and he haughtily waved back the crowd. Dismount- 
ing, he and his men made an examination of the spot and its 
surroundings, taking notes the while. 

“Are the woodmen here who discovered the body?” asked 
the captain. 

Four men came forward and obsequiously bowed to this im- 
portant personage. 

They had soon told all they knew: how they were returning 
from their work to the village, and had almost fallen over the 
body as it lay in the path under the beech- tree. 

“ And you saw nothing and heard nothing previous to this?” 

They were silent. 

“Do you hear me ?” shouted the captain angrily, stamping 
his foot. 

Thereupon one man spoke, with evident reluctance. 

“Ivan,” he said, pointing to a shaggy-haired unintellectual- 
looking man, standing cap in hand, with eyes cast down, staring 


8 


THE BABBPS SPELL, 


vacantly at the leaves at his feet, “ Ivan thought he heard 
something and he stopped. 

“Go on, what did Ivan hear?’^ 

“A ghost, and it please you, sir.” 

“ Bah!” Yeb the captain involuntarily crossed himself. 

Ivan Ivanovitch was tapped on the shoulder by the captain’s 
whip and bidden to explain himself. 

He stammered overmuch in telling what little he had to say. 

“ I am troubled with dreams, and I often hear the wood-spirits 
singing when I am at work in the woods. Last night, by the 
goofi St. Nicolas, as vre walked home the spirits were singing 
louder than ever, and methought I heard one shriek. I told my 
companions so, but they said they heard nothing. The spirits 
do not trouble them because, as the priest says, they are more 
liberal at mass, although the good saint himself knows that had 
I n()t a large family I would give as much as they do.” 

The crowd, in their superstitious fear, vigorously crossed 
themselves during this speech, but the police captain waved the 
man impatiently aside, and asked for information such as might 
lead to a clew. 

“Did you see no living man?” 

They bowed and shook their heads. 

A curious smile flitted over the count’s face at their answer. 

“They tell me Aaron Rosinsky, wliom I believe was a man 
doing no small business in money-lending, held converse, pre- 
vious to his leaving Warsaw last night, with Paul Miswinzki, 
Abraham Abraliamsohn, and Moritz Lichovitz, all poor and 
needy men,” and Count Soltikoff slowly folded up the paper on 
which these names were written. 

“By the souls of our fathers, good sir,” chimed in the men, 
“ we saw none of them.” 

At this point a man arrived on the scene, and stepping up to 
the captain wlnspered something in his ear. The man was 
Nevikoff, a well-known police spy. The crowd looked on curi- 
ously, for they knew that this man’s arrival had some important 
bearing on the matter. 

“ Which is Geza Polinski?” asked the captain in a loud voice. 

Geza stepped forth and answered in a firm, quiet tone, “ l am 
Geza Polinski; what, sir, is your pleasure with me?” 

“ Where were you last night ?” 

There was no mistaking the menace contained in this ques- 
tion, put in the captain’s harshest voice. 

Geza turned deadly pale and remained silent. The people 
elbowed each other significantly, and whispers of suspicion went 
round. 

The captain repeated his question. Geza answ^ered that be 
could not tell. 

“Then,” said his questioner in a commanding tone, “you are 
arrested on the charge of having murdered Aaron Rosinsky on 
this very spot. You, I need hardly tell you, Geza Polinski, 
have for some time past been an object of suspicion to the po- 
lice. Arrest the man.” 

Geza was at once struck dumb. His limbs quivered and his 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 


9 


face was ghastly pale. With an effort he recovered himself, 
and in a voice as firm as he could command he said, looking 
the captain full in the face, “ Before my God I am innocent!” 

Tlie captain shrugged his shoulders and the people muttered 
incredulously, but full and clear above the hubbub arose a 
woman's cry of untold anguish. 

All eyes were bent upon Mira. 

A comely maiden,” said the count to his lieutenant, with a 
meaning leer in his eyes, “ and much too good for this lover of 
hers, for lover I suppose he is.” 

“ It is false,” she cried. “ It cannot be,” and she moved to- 
ward the place where her lover stood. 

Geza motioned her back. 

Yes, it is false; hear me one and all. ’Tis but a plot of the 
police. I am innocent of this terrible crime.” 

His very earnestness could not fail to impress those who heard 
him, although matters looked black against him. It was well 
remembered that he had had words warm and bitter with Aaron 
the very morning before, and that he had made preparations 
for immediate departure from the neighborhood. Besides this, 
he had declared himself unable to explain where he was the 
last night when the murder was committed. 

The policemen approached and made ready to secure him. 
For a moment he was prepared to resist them to the utmost, 
but he saw how useless and futile it would be. He therefore 
allowed them to bind him with stout cord that cut into his flesh, 
for the Russian gendarme has no light hand. 

“ Believe me, friends,” he said, in an earnest voice, as they 
were dragging him away, “although the law may not give me 
justice, 1 am innocent of this crime. ’g' 

“Innocent! You lie!” 

All eyes were turned in the direction whence the voice came, 
and there Rachel was discovered, a wild, hateful look in her 
flashing eyes. 

“ Yes, you lie, and this betrays you.” 

She rushed forward and brandished in front of his face a 
blood-stained knife, shaped like a dagger. 

“This,” she said menacingly, “cannot bear false witness; ' 
The dagger is yours.” 

Geza hung his head and said nothing. The crowd murmured. 
With them his guilt was clear. 

Threateningly she held the dagger in her hand, and her fin- 
gers twitched and quivered round the handle as if she would 
like to plunge it in its owner’s heart. 

“ Y'es, the dagger is mine,” he eventually said, “ but I did not 
use it.” 

“ How came it then wet with the life-blood of the man who 
came between you and his daughter ?” 

“ ‘ An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,’ ” and she ges- 
ticulated wildly, as she forced the words through her thin lips. 

A gendarme approached her, and took away the knife; she 
made no resistance. 

All this time Mira stood motionless, but she shuddered visibly 


10 


THE BAB BPS SPELL. 


when the knife was produced, and covered her eyes with her 
hands to shut out the distasteful sight, 

“Child,” and she was aroused by a violent clutcbiug of 
her right arm. She looked up and encountered her mother’s 
eyes. 

“ Remember your father!” 

Mira could only tremble. 

The crowd pressed forward and clustered round the prisoner, 
whom the police again pushed forward. 

As Mira looked toward them she met the admiring gaze of 
Count Nicolas. There was no mistaking its meaning. 

This was not the first time during the scene that she had met 
those glances, but now he bad a strange attraction for her, and 
she could not take her eyes away. 

“Child, they take him,” and as her mother spoke, the spell 
was broken. 

Roughly they dragged Geza away. The curses of the people 
went with him, for in him they saw without doubt the murderer 
of Aaron Rosinsky. 

One only thought him innocent, and may be love had blinded 
her eyes. She offered up a silent prayer for him as they rode 
off, no other prayer accompanied him. But far above the gen- 
eral din could be heard Rachel’s fierce and mocking words: 
“ ‘ An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth ’ 

CHAPTER III. 

THE CHIEF RABBI. 

The chief rabbi of the district was a most important man 
amongst the Jewish residents. His influence with them was 
unbounded. To him came for help all those who were in 
trouble. The oppressed sought consolation of him and the busi- 
ness man advice. 

He was their Delphic Oracle. 

His wisdom, his forethought, and his judgment 'were abso- 
lutely unimpeachable. Every one abided by his decision, for to 
all he was as one inspired, one who could do no wrong. 

A man of profound learning was the rabbi, versed in many 
tongues and fully conversant with the intricacies of the law. 
In appearance he was distinctly patriarchal. His hair was white 
and hung in long locks almost to his shoulders. A white beard 
and mustache of great thickness considerably added to his ven- 
erable appearance. 

Even the Russians respected him, for he was a law-abiding 
man who, although liis heart bitterly revolted at the continual 
oppressions which were meted out to members of his tribe, 
created no ill-blood, and bade his people be patient, and, as far 
as possible, live in peace. 

“The time will come when peace will be with you all,” he 
had said to one who came to him groaning under some new 
wrong, “ but it is not yet,” and his voice had in it a prophetic 
ring as he said these words. 

He well knew that their only hope was in patiently bearing 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


11 


with the iniquities of Muscovite rule until that good time should 
come— and come he knew it must— when this corrupt and brutal 
officialism w-ould be swept out of the land and the people would 
be free in deed as in name. 

He was seated in his consulting-room -the evening of Geza’s 
arrest, with a velvet skulUcap on his head, busily poring over 
some papers on the table in front of him. 

He was disturbed by a knock at the door, which opened and 
Rachel and her daughter entered. 

Thev had come to him for advice and guidance. They knelt 
before*^ him for his blessing. He touched each one gently on her 
head and bade her arise. 

“The hand of the Almighty has been heavy upon you, my 
daughters,” he said slowly and sympathetically. 

Rachel groaned aloud. 

“But His will be done, my children,” and he raised bis eyes 
reverentially. 

“ The Lord is just, and will avenge our wrongs,” muttered 
Rachel. 

“ Jehovah is ever just,” he answered, turning his clear gray 
eyes upon Mira as he spoke. 

Encouraged by his mild glance she found voice. 

“Oh, good rabbi, they have arrested Geza, who you know 
sought my hand but yesterday of my father, now, alas! no 
more. But he is innocent, as the Lord knows ” — her voice was 
broken with sobs. 

“Innocence does not begin in wrathful words and end in 
blows,” broke in Rachel. 

“Silence, Rachel, daughter of Jacob and of Miriam.” 

His manner was stern, and she was quieted at once. 

“ Your father refused young Geza’s suit ?” asked the rabbi of 
Mira, “and why?” 

“ Because, O rabbi, he was poor, and he is not as one of our 
people. He loveth not to bargain or to trade, but rather to 
study and learn. In my father’s sight he was a Gentile, there- 
fore be refused his request. This refusal smote him sore.” 

“And in the bitterness of his spirit he used tlireats.” 

“Nay, his heart was sad within him, and the hot words 
forced themselves out ere he was aware. But he afterward 
grieved much at what his tongue had spoken.” 

“ He did not relent till his cruel knife had shed -the blood of 
him who angered him,” cried Rachel, scornfully. 

“Rachel, how came you upon this dagger?” 

“ I found it, rabbi. I was going through tlie wood to the 
beech where my good husband was murdered, and my eyes 
were drawn by something glittering amongst the leaves. The 
sun was shining full upon it, so my eyes could not miss it. I 
ran and picked it up. It was a knife all stained with blood. It 
was Geza’s knife — I had seen him with it often, and upon the 
hilt his initials were scratched. The good Lord did deliver the 
foe into my hand, for verily it was Geza’s hand that drove the 
blow which robbed me of a husband and my child of a father’^ 
— and she ceased. 


13 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


“ Good!” The word was spoken with quickness and decision. 

“ Know you if the body of your husband had been robbed?” 

There was a world of meaning in this question. 

“ It seemed not. His watch, bis rings, his very pocket-book 
— ^11 were upon him.” 

“And money?” 

“ There was but little, a few coins and some paper rubles.” 

“ Found ye on him a document ?” 

“ Nay, I looked for none.” 

“Know ye, Rachel, that my good friend Aaron, before he 
left me yesterday morn, did speak with me of business of mo- 
ment. ‘In dealing with the Gentile,’ he said, ‘I did obtain 
from him a bond duly signed, for 1 took his word to be no 
longer good. This bond, unless it be met to-day, I will for safe- 
ty’s sake confide to your care.’ Have you seen the bond?” 

“Nay, rabbi, it was not upon him.” 

“ Strange,” murmured the rabbi, “ no money and no bond.” 

“ Mean you a paper?” It was Mira who spoke, and her words 
were anxious. 

“Yea, my child, what know you of it?” 

For a moment Mira was silent, and then began; 

“ A little while before father was brought home, methought 
I saw his form, all pale and ghastly, standing at the window. 
Blood was streaming from his side, and in his hand he clutched 
a paper.” 

The rabbi started. “ A paper, say you ?” 

“ Yes, sir, of yellowish tint, and all stained with blood.” 

“A parchment?” 

“ So it appeared to me.” 

The rabbi mused a while. Finally he took up his Talmud and 
pored over it, his face suffusing with a strange light as he did so. 

The women looked at him in awe; they both felt he w’as 
gathering an inspiration. 

Was the vision clear, my daughter ?” he at length asked, 
slowly and solemnly. 

“ Very clear, good rabbi; my father seemed to beckon on me, 
as if he would have me follow him.” 

“ I saw nothing,” put in Rachel. 

“ Children,” said the old man, rising full and stately, “ the 
hand of God is in this. Come, follow me.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

LO! ’twas written. 

The rabbi grasped his staff and left the house. They followed 
silently. 

Their way lay through the w’ood. The moon was full, and 
cast weird shadows across their path. Not a soul did they meet. 
Now and again a dog barked in the distance, or an owl hooted 
in the thicknesses of the wood, else they were undisturbed. 
The women accepted their teacher’s lead without comment. 

Presently they reached the beech-tree where the body of the 
murdered Aaron had been found. 


mi: BABBITS SPELL. 


18 


Here they baited. Under its spreacfing branches the rabbi 
stood as if in prayer. An ecstatic look stole over his face, his 
whole frame quivered with a curious emotion. 

His companions looked on in awe. 

Profound quietness reigned around. The air was laden with 
the scent of pines, and heavy with the odor of autumn leaves. 

“ Rachel, daughter of Jacob and Miriam ’’—at last the old man 
found tongue— “you ask for vengeance on the murderer of 
Aaron, sou of Isaac ?” 

“Vengeance, yea!” 

“ So be it.” 

“ Mira, daughter of Aaron and Rachel, you demand justice?’^ 

“ Justice, good rabbi, is all I ask.” 

“Even unto him whom you love best ?” His eyes seemed to 
burn into hers as he asked her this. 

Mira felt her mother’s grasp tightening on her arm. 

“ Even unto him.” she murmured faintly. 

The rabbi said no more, but took from his pocket a large 
knife, and in a solemn manner drew a circle on the trunk of the 
tree. 

This done, he commenced carving some hieroglyphics on the 
bark, raising his voice in a fervent chant. 

It was an imposing scene. 

The moonlight fell on the white locks of the old man, who 
seemed as one inspired, and lit up the faces of the awe struck 
women. 

Ere long his task was finished, and the following Hebraic 
signs met their wondering eyes: 

2:Sau NLiu 

<■. NQ M.<QL 

Qdcluq Litq csa clS 

He calmly contemplated his work, and then, in a clear, com- 
manding voice, he said: 

“Pray, my children.” 

They knelt down at the foot of the tree, on the very spot 
where one had lost a husband and the other a father, and lifted 
up their hearts in prayer to the One Most High. 


CHAPTER V. 

CAPTAIN COUNT SOLTIKOFP. 

Count Soltikoff sat in his breakfast- room, his midday meal 
lying before him untouched. 

He had evidently spent a bad night, for his eyes were heavy 
and his face haggard. He turned over his morning paper with 
a yawn, and casually perused its contents, then let it fall on the 
floor. He lit a cigarette, and tossing off a glass of wodkiy set 
himself to think. 


14 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


‘‘ Matters seem to b# p:oing from bad to worse,” be muttered, 
with a shrug. “Of the tvveutj thousand roubles I had from 
that confounded Jevv% I have scarcely a kopeck left. Let me 
see. how much did I lose last night? Poppinoff won five huii' 
died,, Metikoff another five, and that cursedly lucky little 
Boubrwski was quite a thousand to the good. But luck must 
change sooner or later; one can’t be continually paying over and 
receiving nothing. 

“ Deuced handy that twenty thousand came in, though it has 
gone so quickly. Really could not have done without it. The 
amount had to be made up somehow, and the Jew’s money was 
as good as any other.” As he spoke he looked round cautiously, 
as if in search of a listener. 

“What a headache I have,” he said, pressing his hand to his 
forehead; “these late hours, this hard drinking won’t do, Nico- 
las: they will end for certain either in Siberia or in hell;” and 
he gave a sardonic chuckle. 

Some one tapped at the door: he gave a visible start. 

“Bah!” he said to himself, “how -nervous I have become! I 
can’t hear Meshoned come in without trembling like a school- 
girl. 

“What time is it, Meshoned?” 

“Near two o’clock, your excellency,” answered the servant, a 
Tartar. 

“ Monsieur Nevikoff will be coming soon; show bim in here at 
once. You can remove those things” (pointing to his breakfast). 
“ Stay, leave the icodki and glasses. That will do.” 

The servant did as he w^as bid, and retired. 

The count helped himself to another glass of spirit, and lit a 
fresh cigarette. 

“ That Nevikoff, I fear, knows too much. He must be at- 
tended to.” He spoke slowly, as if weighing each wrord. 

“ But what can he know?” He turned suddenly round and 
glanced uneasily at the door. “Pshaw! I am a w^oman,” and 
he shrugged his slioulders in disgust. “ ’Tis not like your old 
self, Nicolas, to be frightened at your owm shadow.” 

It certainly was not like the count to be over-burdened with 
scruples, as his conscience had ceased to prick him for many a 
long year. Explain it how one might, how^ever. Count Soltikoff 
had certainly grown nervous. It had been remarked by his 
friends, who up to this time had looked upon him as one whom 
the very old one himself could not alarm. 

The count had lived a strange and eventful life. He had early 
obtained a commission in the army and had fought with Kauf- 
mann in the Caucasus. He speedily acquired a reputation for 
courage and devil-may-careness. Three things w^ere said of him 
by those who knew him well; that he knew no fear, that in 
his anger he spared no man, and in his passion no woman 
was safe. 

On the death of his father he inherited an estate close to 
Warsaw. This estate, the property of a despoiled Polish noble, 
had been presented to his father by the Emperor Nicholas for 
the able part he took in putting down the rebellion of 1831. So 


THE RABBITS ^PELU 


15 


atrocious were the acts perpetrated by this brutal comman ler 
that his name amongst the Poles is held in universal execration 
even to tliis day. 

Count Nicolas took up his abode in Warsaw, where he led a 
fast and questionable life. His patrimony speedily diminished, 
and he was ever struggling with pecuniary embarrassments. 

He had, however, friends at court, and they obtained for him 
an official position in connection with the collection of taxes 
T!)e office was simply a sinecure, and in one way and another 
good pickings might be made. He also held a captaincy in the 
secret police, which invested him with considerable power. 

Instead, however, of steadying himself on receiving this ap- 
pointment, he launched forth into greater extravagancies, and 
his financial embarrassments became so great that he helped 
himself for the time being to a portion of the money wbicii he 
had received in his official capacity, and which he in due 
course ought to hand over to the proper state authorities. A.s 
the time for doing so drew near, the count found himself alto- 
gether unable to make good the money appropriated, auvl he 
did not relish the inevitable disgrace which would follow the 
discovery. The leniency of old extended to offenders in this di- 
rection was quite a thing of the past, for the czar, in his hope to 
purify the officialism of Russia, dealt severely with such cases. 

In this emergency, therefore, he applied to Aaron, the Jewish 
money- lender, for a loan of twenty thousand roubles. 

The old Jew was wily and keen as a knife in all business 
matters. He had advanced small sums to the count on previous 
occasions on bis mere promise of repayment, but he desired^ 
something more than a mere note of hand or verbal acknowledg- 
ment for the large sum which was now required. In a word, 
he demanded security. He could not hold a mortgage on the 
count’s property, Jews being debarred by Russian laws from ac- 
quiring real estate; besides, Christians had already a finger in 
the landed pie, and the count had no other security to offer. 
Aaron, however, was inexorable; security he would have ortlio 
mone}' would not be advanced. The count hunted about for 
friends who would back his paper, but speedily found that how- 
ever willing his friends were to relieve him of his money, they 
were altogether indisposed to incur liabilities on his account. 
As a last resource he offered to give Aaron security on the emol- 
uments arising from bis office, and the Jew consented, at the 
same time agreeing that the transaction should be kept a dead 
seci-et. But the moment the agreement was signed the count 
bitterly regretted it, for he saw that by this act he had placed 
himself irrevocably in Aaron’s power. 

The time arrived when this money came due, and he found 
himself quite unable to pay. Tiie Jew had called the day of the 
murder and producing the bond, had asked for the money. 

The count prevaricated and the Jew menaced. Strong words 
had passed between them, and Aaron in his wrath threatened 
to no longer keep the matter secret, but to. appeal to the highest 
authorities, even to the czar himself, for justice. 

The count knew only too well that he was a determined man. 


fnp. tlABBVS BPELU 


i($ 

who would not bear being trifled with, and that already his non- 
fulfillment of tlie contract justified the Jew in no longer keep- 
ing the transaction secret. He also knew that so dear to the 
Hebrew’s soul was money that the possible loss of the amount 
would be sufficient incentive to make him put his threat into 
execution. 

This would certainly not suit the count, for the Jew had but 
to produce his bond in the proper official quarter, and inquiry 
would be made which could not fail to lead to the discovery of 
his peccadilloes and his ultimate ruin and disgrace. His prom- 
ise-; and entreaties were alike unsuccessful with the Jew, who 
wanted his money, and his money he would have. 

A (*old fear stole over him as Aaron left him with that threat 
still ringing in his ears, and he set himself to think of a plan by 
which the difficulty could best be met. 

Thus matters stood on the eve of the murder. 

The Jew had left without having received the money, and 
when his body was brougiit home, done to death by some un- 
known hand, the bond was not on him. 

How this document left his possession, and how he met with 
his death, the sequel will show. 

* * *' * * * * 

Wlulst the count is smoking and thinking over his plans he is 
startled again by a knock, and Nevikoff, the police spy, is an- 
nounced. 

As he enters he bows obsequiously. 

A curious-looking man is this same Nevikoff. He is very thin 
^and tall, with black fitful eyes that never by any chance seem 
to glance at you direct. They always glance downward whilst 
an}’ one is conversing with him, yet out of the corners he ap- 
parently sees all that is going on around him. He is undoubt- 
edly a very cunning man; his thin pointed features and long 
fine mustache, sticking out on either side, give him the appear- 
ance of a weasel. He is distinctly feline in his movements, 
and his glib obsequious manner of speaking to his .superiors 
is as the purring of a cat. With such superiors Nevikoff was 
the soul of amiability and obedience, and would metaphorically 
arch his back with deferential delight at their least wish. 
With his inferiors and the unfortunate individuals who hap- 
pened to come within police displeasure, Nevikoff was as the devil 
incarnate. He not only showed his talons but he made them 
felt, and great was his delight at the anguish or distress he 
caused, for he was an absolutely heartless wretch, who would 
rob and steal with the utmost barefacedness, and bear false 
witness with the blandest of smiles. 

His god was self, and he would sacrifice any one to the pros- 
pect of self-advancement. 

At one time he was suspected of being a Nihilist. He had 
in fact been a member of a secret society, but for rea- 
sons best known to himself he left the society, and all his 
old companions were arrested, on information he supplied to 
the authorities, and received various sentences as conspira- 
tors, Nevikoff joined the secret police, in which capacity he 


THE BABBITS SPELL. 


17 


had already served some five years. He was looked upon by 
the autliorities as a valuable official, but otherwise he was uni- 
versally detested. 

“Well, Nevikoff,” said the count, ‘‘how goes the inquiry as 
to tlie murder of the old Jew ?” 

“ There is nothing new. your excellency.” 

“ Nothing more discovered ? Why, it must be nearly a month 
ago since It happened, eh ?” 

“ A month to-day, your excellency. The case looks very black 
against the young Jewl” 

“ So!” There was a great eagerness expressed in this exclam- 
ation. 

“ Yes, sir, I expect he will swing for it. The evidence is dead 
against him, and the Juge dHnsLmction after his examination 
was satisfied as to the prisoner’s guilt.” 

Another sigh of relief was heard. 

“ The knife that was found is undoubtedly the young Jew’s?” 

“Undoubtedly.” 

Nevikoff raised his eyes, and for a moment looked keenly at 
the captain, as quickly dropping them in his usual manner." 

“It certainly did the deed, your excellency, and did it well.’' 

The count made no answer, but looked up at the ceiling. 

“There is one thing strange about this dagger, which I would 
draw your excellency’s attention to; it bears an extraordinary 
likeness to the one vve found a few nights before the murder, 
when we raided the house in the JSowy-sivait in search of 
Nihilists.” 

It was the count’s turn to look at Nevikofif, but the face of 
the latter was a blank, and told nothing. 

“Indeed, your excellency, if I did not know that the dagger 
and the other things we discovered were safe in your possession 
I should have thought it was the very same.” 

Having thrown this bomb, Nevikofif slvly looked out of the 
corners of his eyes to watch the result of the explosion. 

The count’s manner was, however, composed. The shot had 
failed. 


“How many men did you capture on that occasion?” asked 
the captain in an official tone. 

“ Three; two of them had left previous to our arrival,’" replied 
Nevikofif. ^ 


“ Have you any idea who those two men were?” 

“My suspicions have not yet been confirmed,” was the 
cautious reply. “ I must remind your excellency that we shall 
require that dagger when the prisoners are brought to trial. It 
will form a principal piece (^evidence against them.” 

Tlie count gave a scarcely, perceptible start. 

“ Bah! They were, without doubt but incautious students, 
and the dagger, I take it, was but dropped in the hurry of 
departure by some careless youth.” 

“Not so, your excellency; it is thought that Ivan, the Kiefif 


18 


THE RABBVS SPELL, 


at the trial. The knife will play an important role, doubt it not. 
It was lucky we secured it.” 

“ Very lucky,” rejoined the count, dryly. When does the 
murder trial come on ?” 

“ The day is, I believe, not yet fixed, your excellency, but it 
will not be a long affair, as the fact of the young Jew’s guilt is 
a foregone conclusion. The members of the Jewish community 
are making a great stir about it, for Aaron was an important 
man amongst them, but the rabbi, it is said, is not satisfied as 
to Geza’s guilt.” 

“The rabbi is the old white-haired man who looks like a 
wizard, and is said to foretell the future?” 

“ The same.” 

“ The peasants say he has the evil eye. I met him but yester- 
day, and when his eyes met mine they were strangely bright 
and piercing,” and the count involuntarily crossed himself at 
the recollection. 

“They say he speaks of a bond being missing from the old 
Jew’s pocket.” 

Nevikoff scored this time. The count started uneasily. 

“ A bond — what mean you?” adding to himself, “ Could he 
have told the rabbi before? No, Jews keep their w^ords.” 

“ I know nothing; may be ’tis but an idle story of the old 
rabbi.” 

“ Times are changed, Nevikoff, when so much noise can be 
made over the killing of a Jew. In my father’s time w^e could 
have burnt a w^hole village of them without half the fuss.” 

“Or half the danger.” 

The captain turned round and looked straight at the spy. 
“Nevikoff,” he said, “ you are an ambitious man.” 

Nevikoff bowed. 

“ You are a w’orthy man.” 

Nevikoff was flattered, and smiled complacently. 

“But, Nevikoff, ambitious and w^orthy men, when they are 
mere subordinates, are sometimes a trifle too officious; in fact, 
their zeal is often inclined to be dangerous unless they are 
curbed in good time.” 

^ Nevikoff caught his eye and understood. He trembled for 
the dream of a lifetime, which might be nipped in the bud at 
this period by a word from his superior officer. 

“ But, Nevikoff, you know^ how to apply your zeal, and I shall 
therefore have pleasure in reporting you to the police president 
for that promotion' which you undoubtedly deserve.” 

The w^ords were spoken slowly and deliberately, and their 
meaning was fully understood by the spy. A look of delight 
overspread his face as he poured forth his thanks and expres- 
sions of devotion. 

The count knew he had played the ace on the spy’s king. 

“ There is no doubt the Jevy wdll hang?” he said as the man 
was leaving. 

“ None whatever, your excellency.” 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


19 


CHAPTER VI. 

BY HIS SIDE A SPECTER RODE. 

I LIKE not this rabbi’s talking,” muttered Count Soltikoff to 
himself when the spy had departed. 

“ May be Aaron confided the secret to him before he left 
home. These Jews, they say, cannot only foretell the future, 
but can read their own fate. I should advise this rabbi not to 
meddle overmuch in my affairs, or it will be the worse for him. 

“ How feverish I am, and what a racking headache I have,” 
he continued with a yawn. “ I will have a ride.” 

He ordered a horse to be ready at once. When mounted he 
directed his way into the country. 

“ I will have a canter in the wood; the smell of the pines will 
refresh me,” 

On reaching the wood he gave the horse his head, letting him 
gallop along whither he would. The odor of the pines and the 
fresh balmy air seemed to revive him. 

Suddenly his horse shied and nearly threw his rider. With a 
curse Nicolas dug his spurs into his sides, but it refused to ad- 
vance. 

The count looked up. He was at the beech -tree — the “ Jew’s 
Beech,” as it was now called. 

As his eyes encountered it he involuntarily shuddered, whilst 
he wiped away the cold sweat which covered his face. 

“ The very spot,” he groaned. 

Once again he set spurs to his horse, but the animal was as if 
transfixed. Presently the count caught sight of the signs 
which the rabbi had carved on the tree’s bark. 

“What rubbish is that?’ he thought. 

Despite its meaninglessness to him — for he could not read He- 
brew — he was strangely attracted by it. The signs fascinated 
him whilst they perplexed him. 

What could it mean ? He could not guess. 

At that moment a couple of woodmen came by, humming a 
tune. They saluted the count, who recovered himself with a 
start. 

“ Why don’t you cut down this tree ?” he asked the men. 

“ It is not ours to cut down,” they answered, 

“ What, does it not belong to Baron Seeka, your master I” 

It did, good sir, but the rabbi has bought it.” 

“ Bought it— for what purpose ?” asked the count, with as- 
tonishment. 

“We do not know, good sir, but they do say that since the 
old Jew was murdered here the tree is haunted,” and they 
crossed themselves. 

“ Haunted ? Bah! But what means the scrawl on the trunk 
of the tree ?” 

“ It is said that the spirit of the Jew haunts the tree, and that 
the rabbi put those signs to lay the spirit.” 

“And you believe that?” 


20 THE RABBrS SPELL. 

The men hesitated, then crossed themselves more vigorously 
than ever. 

*• We koovv not what to make of it, good sir. True it is that 
spirits do play in thpse woods and lead honest folks astray.” 

“You have not told the illustrious gentleman the strange 
noise we heard coming from the tree, Andrew,” said one of the 
men, shyly. 

“ Strange noise! What mean you ?” 

“ A noise as if some one were moaning in pain.” 

“It was but tlie vvind. You peasants are a superstitious 
lot of old women,” said the captain, laughing contemptuously 
at them. 

“Nay! Nay!” replied the men. shaking their heads sagely, 
“ that is not all; there are some folk who say they have seen the 
old Jew himselh” 

“ He comes in the same old coat, only he is very pale and 
bloody, and he rustles a piece of paper in ” 

The count did not stop to hear any more, but with an oath 
lashed on his horse, and left the startled peasants gazing after 
him in wonderment. 

Fast and furiously he rode, neither looking to the right nor 
to the left. 

A superstitious fear had seized hold of him. He remem- 
bered all the old legends and ghost stories that had been drilled 
into him in his nursery days. A Russian nurse is full of ghost 
stories. All his old belief in such things suddenly returned 
strong within him. He fancied he could see the face of the 
Jew, white and hateful, staring at him in the gathering gloom. 
The rustling of the leaves as the wind swept through them 
were as so many spirits sighing. To the clattering of his horse’s 
hoofs, he almost fancied he could hear an accompanying sound. 

Whal.could it mean? Once he drew up, the sound ceased at 
once, but no sooner did he go on than he again heard the weird 
thud, as if he were being followed by a phantom horse. 

Was he haunted by the wood-spirit, in which almost every 
Russian fully believes? Would he never be able to escape it? 

These were the thoughts that coursed wildly through his 
mind as he flew onward in his mad career. 

And that writing, what could it mean ? It had strangely fas- 
cinated him. The weird signs seemed graven in his sight. He 
could still see them mixing together in chaotic muddle, now 
clear, now misty, but ever there. 

What did they portend? he again and again asked himself, 
but it was a mystery he could not solve. When he drew rein at 
his door his horse was worn, out, and bis own headache had not 
improved. 

Coming slowly along at that moment was the old rabbi. 
Their eyes met. Again the rabbi looked him through and 
through. • 

For a moment the count flinched under that steadfast gaze, 
but with an effort he obtained command over himself; and, 
with an air of apparent unconcern, he passed into his house. 


THE kABnrs SPELL 




CHAPTER VIL 

BETWEEN THE ACTS. 

The months went by and still Geza was untried, though in 
public opinion he was already condemned and for a certainty 
would hang. 

In the preliminary examination before the juge dHnstruetion 
no fresh facts had been elicited, but the proofs already in the 
hands of the police were quite sufficient to hang any un be- 
friended man in Russia. It was, therefore, only a question of a 
few weeks longer ere the young Jew would make his'exit by 
the hangman’s rope. It was whispered that the police had a 
motive in delaying the trial, and that they were seeking to fix 
some otlier charge upon the prisoner. Rachel had grown less 
virulent in her hatred toward Geza, though in her heart she was 
convinced that he was the murderer of her husband, but after 
the incident in connection with the svriting on the tree she 
agreed to abide events. 

Mira was, strange to say, calmly patient. She was convinced 
of her lover’s innocence, and in her simplicity expected every 
day to see him free. From him she had not heard a word since 
his arrest. He was not allowed to write, and it would have 
been unbecoming of her to hold communication — even if it were 
possible — with one who. was looked upon as the murderer of her 
father. So she waited and hoped, faith being strong within 
her. 

The rabbi shared her opinion of Geza's innocence. 

He was a far-seeing, shrewd man, and looked beyond mere 
circumstantial evidence, although he w^as forced to admit that 
the evidence as it stood was black against the young man. The 
members of the Jewish community generally were not in favor 
of Geza. He was scarcely one of them, and as he had not found 
favor in Aaron’s eyes, he did not find favor in theirs. Tliey 
were undoubtedly prejudiced against him. 

There were, however, those in the village who, whilst unable 
to fix the guilt upon any particular person, sagely shook their 
heads, saying that Geza might have done the deed, but they 
doubted it. There had been time for the hot blood of the 
3’oung Jew to cool, between his parting with Aaron and the lat- 
ter’s murder, and what man, no matter how revengeful, would 
murder the father of his sweetheart in cold blood? To their 
minds some other person had done the deed, either from feel- 
ings of revenge or for purposes of robbery. There were many 
needy and desperate people in and about Warsaw, who would 
not be over particular about shedding bloc>d, especially the blood 
of a Jew, if their cupidity or wrath were over- excited. 

The subject formed the topic of conversation in every Jewish 
village round about the Polish capital, but in Warsaw itself it 
attracted very little attention. A Jew had been murdered, but 
what of that? The murdering of a Jew w^as no novelty in 
Russia; the only difi’erence was that the murderer was this 


22 


THE EABBI^S SPELL. 


time tiot a Russian. He was himself a Jew, and in due course 
would pay the penalty of the law. 

What more could the Jews want? It seemed too absurd to 
make such a fuss over the removal of one of their number, just 
as if there were not by far and away too many of the race in 
the country. 

A Christian murders a Jew and is not punished. Extenuat- 
ing circumstances are found. The compatriots of the victim 
make a loud outcry over the affair and the matter ends. But a 
Jew kills a Jew and will swing for it. Surely this should 
balance the matter. Truly, there is no satisfying these sons of 
Israel. 

Thus argued the Russians whenever the question of the crime 
arose. 

Something, however, occurred which led the rabbi to seek 
for a fresh clew. 

After the funeral he, by Rachel’s request, made a careful ex- 
amination of Aaron’s papers. One item in the account- book at- 
tracted his attention. As he read it he was strangely moved, 
and a new light dawmed on him. It ran thus: 

“ Count Nicolas Soltikoflf, twenty thousand roubles.” 

This opened up a new trail, and he quickly follow’ed it up. 
He associated the entry with the statement made to him by 
Aaron that he had lent a Gentile a large sum of money, for 
w hich he had received a bond in return. 

This Gentile must have been Count Soltikoflf. 

What then had become of the bond ? Had he redeemed the 
bond, and had Aaron, on his return through the wood with 
the money, fallen in with robbers who had murdered to rob? 
Was the murder the outcome of the robbery, or was it a planned 
attack ? 

These thoughts filled his mind and perplexed him sorely, and 
all efforts to throw light upon the matter seemed in vain. 

One thing he discovered, that the old Jew had called on the 
count on the day of the murder, and that he had been admitted 
by the back way. There was, however, nothing remarkable in 
this, as no great courtesy was ever shown the Jews by the Rus- 
sians. Besides, the count would naturally dislike the visit to 
be made too publicly, for every one knowing his pecuniary em- 
barrassments would immediately suspect the nature of the case. 

The rabbi also heard that Aaron had been closeted with tlie 
count for some time, and when he left he seemed greatly ex- 
cited, but this furnished no explanation as to the result of the 
interview. 

After leaving the count, Aaron, it appeared, had transacted 
business with others in the town^ but with them he spake never 
a word on the matter, in fact he had been particularly reticent. 

This, of course, might be put down to his desire to keep secret 
the fact that be had so large a sum with him in the case of his 
having been paid. 

The rabbi could glean nothing further beyond the fact that 
he was seen, about dusk, going homeward by w^ay of the wood 
and alone. 


THE RABBPS SPELL, 


23 


The rabbi determined from this moment to watch the count's 
movements very closely. Up to the present he had been unsuc- 
cessful in distinctly fastening anything upon him. 

As ill luck would have it, just before the trial came on, he 
was called avvay to St. Petersburg to consult with the chief 
rabbi and other eminent Jews as to the best course to be adopted 
in connection with the attacks which were everywhere obstruct- 
ing the chosen race in Russia. He could not, therefore, be of 
that personal use to the prisoner that he had wished. 

About this time news reached him that two notorious mis- 
creants, who had been in Warsaw at the time of the murder, 
had been captured in St. Petersburg, and that a large quantity 
of paper money had been found on them. They would make 
no statement as to how they came by the money, but it was un- 
doubtedly the fruit of some robbery. 

The idea flashed across the rabbi’s mind that after all these 
men had committed the crime and robbed Aaron of the monej^ 
paid to him by the count — provided the money had been repaid. 

Something of moment at this period demanded that he should 
w ithout delay pay the count a visit. The Christians in the vil- 
lage had of late become very threatening toward the Jews, and 
indeed a Jewish money-lender had been brutally attacked and 
robbed by a Christian creditor and his friends. 

So, in order to lay this matter before him, and to satisfy him- 
self with regard to the repayment of the loan referred to, he de- 
termined to call upon the count previous to his departure. 


CHAPTER VIII. . 

THE COUNT AND THE RABBI. 

CouNt Nicolas' gave utterance to an exclamation that had 
all the fullness and flavor of an oath about it when, to his sur- 
prise and annoyance, the rabbi entered the sitting-room unan- 
nounced. 

“ Pray, sir,” he said, so soon as he had recovered from his as- 
tonishment, “ what may be your business with me?” 

The rabbi bowed gravely, and begged the count to excuse 
the intrusion on the ground of the pressing importance of the 
matter, 

“ I beg you to be trief, whatever your business may be, as 
my time is short,” was the ungracious reply, as the rabbi w^as 
motioned to a seat. 

“My people are sorely troubled,” began the rabbi. He had 
refused the seat, and was standing bolt upright. “And they 
turn to me in this their hour of need.” 

“ What y)eople? To what do you refer? You speak in enig- 
mas; I must beg of you to be more explicit if you wish me to 
follow you;” and he assumed an air as of one profoundly 
bored. 

“My people who dwell in the village of Rudzisk; have you 
not heard of the threatened rising on the part of the Christians 
against thern ?” 


24 


THE RABBPS SPELL, 


“Bab! threatened men live long^, and Jews are no exception 
to the rule,” and, so saying, the count shrugged his shoulders. 
“ Depend upon it,” he continued, “ the threats are but idle.” 

“ Nay, good sir, they are not idle, for only yester evening 
Jacob Jacobsohn was struck down almost dead at his very door 
and robbed — robbed, hark ye, of all that was found upon him,” 
and the rabbfs eyes kindled in anger. “ Has not this thing 
come to your knowledge?” he continued, “or are not such 
deeds of the Christians reported unto you? For know ye his 
assailants were Christians.” 

“Yes, a report has been made to me, but I am, at the same 
time, told that this man Jacob Jacobsohn was a money-lender, 
and that the persons who attacked him had often been cruelly 
robbed by him. If this be true, it would appear tiiat the Chris- 
tians, whom it is your pleasure to abuse, but got back their 
own.” 

“ Got back thdr own!” echoed the rabbi; “ but is this the way 
in a Christian country to proceed, and is not a money-lender, 
Jew though he be, to be protected against such attacks?” and 
the old Jew’s eyes flashed Are. 

“ Certainly, but this man, it is said, is a usurer of the worst 
kind, and for a long time past he has oppressed the needy and 
conflding who unhappily have fallen within his clutches; and 
you, rabbi, cannot but be aware that members of your tribe 
are not generally the easiest of creditors,” and he smiled sig- 
nificantly. 

The rabbi’s eyes met his at this point, but thej' were still smil- 
ing, and told nothing. 

“ But what of this, rabbi?” he went on to say. “ The matter 
has already been reported to headquarters, and Jacobsohn’? as- 
sailants will doubtless be dealt with according to law.” 

“ According to law!” and the rabbi laughed grimly as he re- 
peated the words. “ Why, the very men who committed the 
deed are now drinking deep and heavy with the fruits of their 
robbery, whilst their friends look on in approval. Is this the 
law ?” 

“ I am not its administrator,” and the count waved his hand 
impatiently. 

“ The law,” went on the old man; “what care the'^e Chris- 
tians, when a Jew is concerned, how they break it?” 

The rabbi’s voice was bitter and disdainful. “ But evil will 
come of it, evil greater and direr than you dream of, unless an 
example be made of the ill doers and the law made respected. 
Others in the village are emboldened by this attack, and they 
proclaim their intention of paying off old debts in a similar 
way. Many of my people are in fear of their lives as well as of 
their money; for, once let loose the twin- devils of lust and 
greed, and there is no telling where and how it will all end. 
Blood will come of it. Yea, the blood of the old and the young 
alike; the innocent will suffer along with those who, in greed’s 
eyes, are deemed guilty and outraged; purity will shriek iu 
y^^in for mercy before the god of lust,” ■ 


THE RABBI’S SPELL. Is 

The rabbi’s voice had in it a prophetic ring as he spoke, and 
his eyes went upward as if in prayer. 

Both were silent awhile, and in the meantime the count lit 
himself a cigarette and mentally wished his visitor would be 
gone. 

“You knew Aaron Rosinsky?” 

It was the rabbi who spoke, and his Tvords, coming so sud- 
denly upon the stillness, seemed harsh and shrill. 

His eyes were fixed full upon the count, and his every move- 
ment watched. 

It was with difficulty that the captain, great as was his com- 
mand over himself, could refrain from starting at the suddenness 
of the question put to him; but he had steeled himself against 
such attacks, and the old Jew gathered nothing from his counte- 
nance. 

“ I knew him, yes; but what of that? He is dead.” 

“ Dead — murdered!” 

“ Oh, yes, and they have been fortunate enough to capture his 
murderer, who, if rumor be in any way true, will fora certainty 
hang ere long.” 

The captain turned round with a shrug of indifference and 
helped himself to a glass of ivodki, 

“ The law is often swift on the innocent, but it is a laggard 
with the guilty.” 

The rabbi did not for a moment take his eyes from off the 
count. 

“ What, do you doubt the man’s guilt?” 

“ What is to be will be. It is not of him, however, I would 
speak, but of the murdered man, Aaron Rosinsky.” 

“ Proceed.” 

“ You know he was a money-lender?” 

“ He had, I believe, that reputation.” 

“You may know,” went on the rabbi, “that he left behind 
him a widow and an only daughter?” 

“ Perfectly. Tlie widow, very haggish and declamatory; the 
daughter, fair and handsome. The former, if I remember right, 
accused the young man under arrest of having murdered her 
Jiiisband, whilst the daughter, who is, I take it, tiie man's 
sweetheart, loudly expressed her belief in his innocence. Are 
they both well ?” 

Again the fierce light stole over the rabbi’s face. He was 
deeply incensed at this cynical tone adopted by the captain, 
who, to tell the the truth, was infinitely bored over the whole 
matter. 

“ Well ?” 

The vvord was hurled between the old man’s clinched teeth. 

“ Yes, as well as the bereaved and the threatened can be.” 

“Threatened! What mean you?” 

“Why, after Aaron’s murder tlie widow went through her 
husband’s books and found many sums, large and small, owing 
by the people round about; she immediately set to work to col- 
lect the moneys outstanding. The principal debtors are Chris- 
tians, and they, since the attack on Jacobsohn, do not seem in a 


THE rtABEVS SPELL. 


hurry to comply with her demands; indeed, many who first 
paid up now threaten to take from her by force such sums as 
Jiave been paid by them, for the lust of robbery is strong upon 
them. Aaron Rosinsky, as you may already know, had the 
reputation of having been a rich man, and a splendid prospect 
of plunder, should a raid be made upon his widow’s home, looms 
in the eyes of these law-abiding people. The mother and 
daughter are full of fear, and demand help at the hands 
of the law, for they live alone, with no men -folk, and are en- 
tirely unprotected. I have already made my plaint to the po- 
lice president on the subject, and am referred to you, as com- 
manding in this district, to provide the neccessary protection.” 

“It shall be done,” replied the captain, shortly, and he pro- 
ceeded to make a note of it, for his memory was proverbially 
treacherous in such matters. 

The rabbi bowed his thanks, but he seemed to be in no hurry 
to leave. 

He lingered there, whilst the count lit another cigarette, 
which he nervously twisted between his fingers. 

Instinctively the count felt that the rabbi had something 
further to say, and which might contain the real object of his 
visit; for, although, as he very well knew, from information 
supplied him, that risings against the Jews in many parts of 
Russia were daily expected, he did not believe in the immediate 
possibility of an outbreak in this neighborhocd. The situation, 
in fact, was not of so pressing a character as to warrant a spe- 
cial visit such as this from the rabbi, as matters of this descrip- 
tion, in accordance with the precepts of Russian officialism, 
were invariably met by the presentation of a written petition. 
He therefore determined to be on his guard against any sur- 
prise. He had not long to wait before the question which he 
had all the time been dreading was put to him. 

“ You said just now, good sir, that you knew Aaron Rosinsky 
as a money-lender. Had you any monetary dealings with 
him?” 

“Asa receiver of taxes it was often my duty to take his 
moneys. The old man always promptly rendered ‘ unto Cassar 
such things as were Caesar’s.’” Thus the count parried tlie 
question. The next one put was, however, far more to the 
point. 

5 “ Bid be ever lend 2/ow moneys?” 

The captain drew himself up haughtily, and his eyes flashed 
that glance which had so much of the cruel, relentless devil 
in it.' 

“That, old man, is none of your buMness,” he answered. 

“ It is all of my business. I act for the widow and the child, 
with their full authority.” There was a pause, and then he 
continued: “ Know you, that there is entered in the books of 
the murdered Aaron an item which tells of your having been 
in his debt to the extent of twenty thousand rubles. The book 
saith not that this money was ever repaid.” 

The captain blew a thick cloud of smoke from his perfumed 
cigarette whilst he prepaied his answer. But beneath the 


THE R ABB VS SPELL, 


m 

smoke his face grew pale and alarmed. Natural as it vras that 
Aaron should have kept some such record of the debt, he had 
himself quite overlooked its possibilit3% and he had brought 
himself to look upon the matter as a secret that was with the 
dead. 

When the smoke had cleared away, his face had recovered 
its composure, and told nothing to the inquiring eye of the 
Jew. 

Such marvelous self-possession puzzled the rabbi, who im- 
agined that he would be taken aback by this disclosure of his 
secret, even if he were not actually concerned in the murder. 

“The book lied, mon cher rabbi. I had not the mouey. It 
was simply one of those to have-beens. The old Jew wanted 
securities greater than I could possibly give, so I had to look 
elsewhere. If the entry is there it was a prospective one. What 
was the date of it, by the bye?’’ 

The suddenness of this question took the rabbi aback. 

There had been no date in the book. What if the count told 
the truth, and the money had not been advanced after all for 
want of proper security, and that the entry had only been made 
in prospect of its being actually loaned? Then, again, how 
came it that on the very morning of the murder Aaron had 
spoken with him concerning a bond held from a Christian ? 
Had this bond any reference to the' entry of twenty thousand 
rubles, and was the Christian to whom Aaron referred identical 
with Count Soltikoff ? 

It was truly more than the rabbi could tell. 

The rabbi did not answer this question, but his keen, pene- 
trating eye was upon him as if he were reading the secrets of 
his very soul. 

He felt in that moment that the man had lied; but what proof 
had he beyond those afforded by his intuitive readings ? 

“ Pray believe me, mon cher rabbi, that the book lied,” event- 
ually said the count, breaking the silence. 

“ That cannot lie,” muttered the rabbi half to himself. 

“What?” ejaculated the count. 

“ The writing on the tree,'^ 

Drawing himself up to his full height, and without one word 
of farewell, the rabbi departed as silently as he had entered, 
leaving his listener with a puzzled feeling in his mind. 

“ The writing on the tree! What can it mean? I must get 
its meaning deciphered,” and as he spoke a sudden and unac- 
countable sense of coming horror stole over him. 


CHAPTER IX. 

ON HIS TRIAL. 

After unaccountable delay the trial of Geza Polinski for the 
murder of Aaron Rosinsky came on for hearing. All this time 
Geza had remained in jail, and had been treated almost as one 
already condemned. 

No one in the prison seemed to doubt his guilt, and although 


28 


THE 11 ABB VS SPELL. 


they felt not the remotest sympathy for the murdered man, 
they were still less likely to be sympathetically inclined toward 
his supposed murderer, who was also a Jew. 

Every Russian official feels it his bounden duty to despise the 
Jewish race intoto, and to act upon his prejudices with regard to 
them on every possible occasion. 

As has been pointed out, at the preliminary examination 
before th9,juge dHnst ruction ^ sufficient evidence was adduced to 
convince tlie court of the probable guilt of the prisoner, who, 
despite his assurances of innocence, absolutely declined to give 
any account of his whereabouts on the night of the murder, or to 
explain how the dagger, with which the murder was undoubt- 
edly committed, and which he admitted to be his property, left 
his possession. It was hoped, and indeed expected— for all 
prisoners arrested in Russia on what is considered reasonable 
suspicion are expected to make in due course a confession — that 
he would, during his incarceration, confess liis guilt and throw 
himself upon the mercy of the czar. Geza, however, did noth- 
ing of the kind, but from first to last protested his innocence, 
maintaining, however, beyond this a dignified silence, which 
was to the prison authorities as provoking as it was unaccount- 
able. 

Except among the Jewish inhabitants, the trial created but 
little interest, for a Jew the more of a Jew the less was a mat- 
ter of small moment in Warsaw. Indeed, the public were get- 
ting somewhat tired of hearing of almost daily mas-acres of 
whole Jewish families in one part or other of the Holy Russian 
Empire. But amongst all classes or Jews in the city and neigh- 
borhood the day of the trial was one of considerable excitement, 
and they were very much exercised as to the probable result. 

So tlie trial came on. 

The prisoner was taken from his cell and brought into the 
court-room, a dingy, grimy chamber that had about it an ap- 
parent smell of blood and crime, and the gloominess of which 
had a highly depressing effect on all present. 

The presiding judge, a renegade Pole, who had forsworn his 
race and religion, and who, in accepting office under the czar, 
bad become more Russian in his antipathies toward his former 
compatriots than even the most orthodox Muscovite, was evi- 
dently thoroughly prejudiced against the prisoner. 

Geza, as he stood up in the prisoner’s box, looked worn and 
pale, yet withal calm and collected. 

His presence made a good impression; but it may be correctly 
said that, with the exception of one little heart that was almost 
breaking itself on his behalf, away in a corner of that dingy 
court, not one man nr woman really felt for him in his position. 

All there thought him guilty. 

It was a cruel and brutal murder, and the perpetrator of it 
must suffer the extreme penalty of the law. This was the opin- 
ion of eveiy one. 

As the witnesses were examined, the case looked blacker 
than ever against the pale, handsome, and interesting-looking 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 29 

youn^ man, who stood leaning against the wall, guarded on 
each side by a soldier with a drawn sword. 

The woodmen having deposed how they had found the body, 
Rachel was (?xarnined. 

She explained how she had discovered the knife (knife pro- 
duced, identified as belonging to the prisoner), and with many 
meaning gestures, and in a tone of no little harshness, she gave 
her evidence relating to what had passed between her husband 
and the young man on the morning of the murder. 

Her anger, it was true, was somewhat less terrible than it 
had been on the day of Geza’s arrest; but she had determined 
not to show him any mercy whatsoever. 

‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,’” was her 
maxim, and no one could turn her from the implacable desire 
for revenge which possessed her. 

Mira was examined as to her relationship with the prisoner, 
and with great reluctance she stated how Geza had asked her 
father for her hand and had been refused. On being strongly 
pressed, she admitted that strong words had passed between the 
two men. “ But then he loved me so, and his heart was sorely 
disappointed at the refusal,” she hastened to add with consider- 
able warmth. Although repeatedly asked, she strenuously de- 
nied that Geza had used threatening words toward her father. 
Words hot and bitter, arising from disappointed love, had come 
from his lips it was true, but they did not amount to threats. 

Mira wound up her evidence by saying that, in spite of all, 
she still believed in Geza’s innocence, a declaration which w^as 
frowned upon severely by the president, who sharply told her 
that her opinion upon this vital point w’as neither solicited nor 
needed. 

The earnest w^ay in w hich she gave her evidence, and the 
trustful look w hich she bestowed upon her lover as she wound 
up with the declaration of faith above mentioned, were not 
without effect upon the crowded court. Even the packed jury 
did not seem unaffected. 

The prisoner’s lips moved a faint prayer of thanks, and his 
eyes swam for a moment with tears of gratitude as he heard 
her. 

She at least was true. She at least believed in his innocence, 
and the knowledge gave him courage. 

“Do you still persist in declining to say how this knife, 
which you admit is your property, left your possession ?” asked 
the president, in his severest tones, of the prisoner, w^ho stood 
up !:)etween the two stalwart and fully -armed gendarmes. 

All eyes were turned upon the prisoner, and even Count Nico- 
las, who stood a little way off from where the judges sat, glared 
at him with no little eagerness when this question w as put. 

I cannot tell you,” he answered in a calm, clear voice. “ I 
have already said that I lost the knife some time before the 
murder. It may have done the foul deed— I cannot tell; but 
this much I can say, that mine was not the hand that guided it, 
neither do I know who did the devilish act,” 

He said no more, 


30 


THE RABBrS SPELL. 


Prisoner!” 

Once more the harsh, unsympathetic voice of the president 
grated upon the court. 

“Know you, prisoner, that your very life may depend upon 
your answering this?” 

Geza was silent. 

“ You say you lost this dagger?” asked the public prosecutor, 
jumping up from his seat. “How? Ah, you are silent. Is 
this not evidence of guilt ? And where were you on the even- 
ing of the murder? You say you can explain but that you will 
not. Is this so?” 

“ Even so.” 

The calmness with which these words were spoken by the 
prisoner created no little surprise. 

“ Even so, and yet, rash man, you refuse to answer when 
your life may be forfeited through your silence. Do you not 
know this?” 

“ I know it.” 

Nothing could be more decided than this reply. Every one 
wondered at his obstinacy, although very few really believed 
that he had any explanation to offer. But they universally con- 
demned him for not inventing some plausible excuse. Where 
is the Russian who, on being tried for his life, could not, at a 
moment’s notice, invent a hundred good excuses for his crime? 
Where is the Russian, indeed, who, for preference, would not 
tell a lie instead of a truth in ordinary every-day matters ? 

The Russians like a fully- developed liar, and a man is a poor 
creature in their eyes who cannot lie his soul away for the ex- 
culpation of himself and the confusion of his enemies. 

But Mira’s heart gave a little leap of dread as she heard her 
lover’s answer. Was he not recklessly throwing away his 
chances of life through his reticence ? She felt that he could 
satisfactorily explain both the loss of the dagger and his where- 
abouts on the eve of the murder; so she was deeply grieved, and 
wondered much at his strange silence. 

She gave him an earnest beseeching look, and as his eyes met 
hers he was told what terrible dread was tearing at her heart. 

His eyes sank before that look, and he seemed torn by con- 
flhjting emotions. For a moment bis firmness almost left him, 
but he recovered himself with an effort. But, as if fearful of a 
return of this weakness, he carefully avoided looking in the 
direction where Mira sat. 

As if indifferent to what was going on around him, he sank 
into a sort of reverie, from which he was speedily awakened by 
the rough hand of one of the gendarmes falling upon his shoul- 
der, calling his attention to the fact that the president was again 
addressing him. 

He looked up and shook off the languor which was upon him. 

“I know my life may be forfeited,” he said, in answer to the 
judge. “I know it quite well, but I cannot explain myself.” 

“ How so?” 

“ Because the explanation affects the life of another,” 


THE EABBVS SPELL. 31 

His voice was quite clear and his manner firm and calm as he 
spoke, whilst he had drawn himself up to his full height. 

His confident, not to say defiant, bearing and calmly pene- 
trating voice were not without influence upon the people pres- 
ent, although apparently nothing would convince them that he 
had not a hand in the murder. 

“ How long is it since you have found the lives of others more 
precious than your own ?” asked the state prosecutor, with a 
visible sneer upon his lips. 

Geza noticed not the sneer, but answered him in the same 
calm, confldent manner that he had assumed throughout his 
examination. 

“ When a man loves and is beloved his life is ever precious 
unto him— such is my life. But what is the life of one man to 
that of others? If you condemn me to die for a crime of which 
the Great God knows I am innocent, my murder lies at your 
door. It is for you to prove me guilty; for my part I must re- 
main silent, for by my silence, although in your eyes condemn- 
ing myself, I know I save others.” 

His voice gained in depth and power as he went on, and his 
last words had in thpoi a heroic ring. 

What I mean, and who those people are whose lives I 
desire to save, is my secret,” he said, motioning the state prose- 
cutor into silence. “ Silent I have been, and silent I will re- 
main. No, 1 have no more to say.” 

These words were delivered in a voice that was entirely free 
from theatrical affectation or bombast, and they made a pro- 
found impression even upon the aforesaid jury, who sat like so 
many well-placed logs of wood, silent and motionless. 

Poor Mira gave utterance,to a faint little moan as she heard her 
lover thus condemning himself to death. 

“Break the silence and save yourself,” were the unspoken 
words which formed themselves on her lips. 

Who were those persons that he was giving up his life to save? 
It was a mystery to her— a mystery that she felt herself quite 
unable to solve, and which sorely agitated her. 

Then love came to her rescue. There was hope yet, she argued 
to herself. The jury must see that her lover was innocent, for 
how could a man look and speak like that and yet bo guilty ? 
Yes, they would all see his innocence in time, she thought, and 
he would be released. Her Geza free 

Her heart almost stopped in the sudden idea of such a joy. 
Then a cold fear took possession of her. 

If he were not released ? If, indeed, he were found guilty ? 
What then? 

“ No, no!” whispered Hope; “he is innocent— innocent, and 
soon will be free,” and she took momentary strength. 

“ But if he is innocent, who, then, is guilty ?” queried Doubt, 
Who? 

Ah, that was what puzzled her. Her lover had not done the 
cruel deed — of that she was certain ; but no idea of the actual 
murderer was vouchsafed her. 


32 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 


But then these people whom Geza wished to screen, even with 
his own life, were they the murderers ? 

She turned white and sick at heart as this idea coursed 
through her brain, and for a moment a shadow of doubt fell 
across her perfect trust. 

‘*No, it cannot be,” argued Love. ^‘He would not screen 
your father’s murderer. It is not that.” 

Not that, no; what is it then? Who are these people whose 
lives are so precious, so much more precious than his own life? 
The unfathomed mystery hung like a black cloud over her. 

“As you will,” said the president when Geza had finished. 
“ Your life, if you have any good and true explanation to offer, 
is in your own hands,” and he gave a shrug'of his shoulders in- 
dicative of infinite indifference. 

Further evidence having been adduced, the public prosecutor 
rises and addresses the court. He deals in a severe spirit with 
the case, laying great stress upon the brutality of the crime and 
the callous indifference of the prisoner. He demands that the 
jury will find a verdict of guilty, as such awful crimes must be 
put down by a rigorous execution of the law. The president, 
having rung bis bell, makes a brief presentment of the leading 
points to the jury, who are then called upon to find a verdict. 

For a moment the prisoner looked up eagerly in the diiection 
of the door, as if expecting some one to enter, but such hope, if 
he had any, was evidently doomed to disappointment, for the 
door remaine l closed. 

Once Geza caught the stern, unrelenting glance of the presi- 
dent. There was no hope there. 

The most self-possessed man in the room was the count, and 
he, at the moment when the president was delivering his pre- 
sentment. had been making a bet with a fellow-officer who stood 
by that Geza would show the white feathcT at the hanging, for 
he had from the very first made up his mind that the young man 
would hang. 

“ These Jews,” he said, with a delicate twirl of his mustache, 
“ have plenty of braggadocio, and can affect the theatrical pose 
better than any one; but 1 never yet knew one who didn't funk 
it when the final moment arrived, although, as you say, mon 
ami, this scapegrace young man appears to be possessed of no 
little pluck. Depend upon it, however, that he will cringe and 
howl for mercy and forswear these said persons — provided, of 
course, they have any reality — whom he now seems so anxious 
to screen with a most unbelieving readiness, so soon as he sees 
the hempen cravat dangling in front of him. Your hundred 
rubles, man cher Constantine, are as good as mine.” 

c/ier Constantine smiled as he answered, “Don’t be so 
confident. I have seen Jews keep secrets even under pressure- 
torture, as the vulgar call it — and have gone to the gallows 
without even a whimper, their secret dying with them. This 
young man appears to be of the right stuff, and if I am any judge 
of character, mon capitaine, I shall have the pleasure of relieving 
you of your imndred rubles.” 

At this point the president’s bell is heard demanding silence, 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 

The jury l»as returned its verdict without leaving the box, 
and the president proceeds to pronounce judgment. 

“ Prisoner,” he said, and his voice grated harsh and dry upon 
the unfortunate man’s ears, “ you are undoubtedly guilty of a 
barbarous and hideous crime, for which the punishment at the 
hands of the law is death.” 

Death ! 

A great lump arose in Mira’s throat, and she almost fainted 
in her mother’s arms; but her eyes were wide open, fixed as if 
in a trance in glaring inquiry upon the stern, hard face of the 
man who was sending her beloved to his grave. 

As the judge paused, in order to clear his throat preparatory 
to passing sentence upon the prisoner before him, a painful 
silence ensued, only disturbed by the abort catching of the 
young girl’s breath as she awaited the words of doom. 

“ The sentence,” continued the judge, “ is that ” 

“Holdl” 

The judge paused, and all eyes were turned in the direction 
whence the voice came. 

There was a commotion at tlie door, and a man was forcing 
his way through the people who crowded up the entrance. 

“ Holdl” he repeated, shaking himself free from a gendarme 
who sought to detain him. 

“ This man is innocentl” 

Every one started in surprise, and not a few opened their eyes 
wide with awe at this unexpected intrusion. 

In another moment the man was at the prisoner’s side. 

“This man is innocent,’^ he said, in a loud, commanding 
voice, pointing at Geza. 

For a while none spoke, all being too taken aback by the sud- 
denness of the surprise. 

“ You here ?” said Geza, but his voice was not above a whis- 
per, and his words passed unheard. 

A black frown overspread the countenance of the presiding 
judge. This functionary had long since made up liis mind as to 
the prisoner’s guilt, and he felt that this unexpected and un- 
seemly interruption could have no sort of bearing upon that 
just sentence of the law which he was on the point of passing 
on the prisoner. . 

“ Who are you, who thus dare to disturb this court?” he 
thundered out, after savagely ringing his bell. 

“ I come to save this man, knowing Viim to be innocent,” was 
the firm' reply. “I can prove that he w^as with me when he 
lost his knife, and I can also prove that he was with me at the 
time w^hen the murder must have been conimitted.” 

“ Who are you, I ask, who thus make such statements?’* and 
the judge looked at him with an angry keenness. 

“I am Ivan Tergenow.’* 

Through his words ran a trumpet-like note of defiance, and as 
he spoke he tore off the wig and beard which disguised him, and 
stood full in view of the judge. 

As he declared his name a murmur of astonishment ran 
through the court, . 


84 EABBrs SPELL 

pne had recognized, him in his disguise, but how there wavS 
pot one in that crowded room who did not recognize in that fair, 
delipate- looking youth the intrepid Nihilist for wliose capture 
large rewards were offered by the government, and whose por- 
trait and^ description wex*e posted in every police station and on 
€very public place throughout the empire. 

“ So you are Ivan the Niliilist,’/ snarled the judge, completely 
taken by surprise at the daring of tije man in thus throwing 
himself into the lion’s den. 

, , “ Yes, the student Ivan Tergenow, or the Nihilist, as you pre- 
fer calling me,” replied the young man with a bitter laugh. 
‘VFear not, I shall not escape you,” lie added, turning to the 
two gendarmes, who had laid a heavy hand on each slioulder, 
,and with drawn svyords stood- ready to cut him down if he at- 
tempted to free himself. 

He was singularly handsome, this young man, with a pale 
effeminate beauty, that at once attracted attention and created 
sympathy. His face was very haggard, and his laige black 
eyes, shone with a strange luminousness. He had the look of a 
hunted animah who had turned at bay when the bloodhounds 
Avere upon him and the life-blood was oozing from his torn and 
mangled: body. 

Ivan, it^was true, was a hunted animal. For months past the 
police agents in every part of Russia had been on the alert to 
capture him, and claim that blood-money set upon his head. 
Many were the miraculous escapes he had had, sometimes 
through his own ingenuity, but as often through the connivance 
of others, for the young student had many friends and was 
much beloved by all in whose eyes the terrible officialism of 
Russia found no favor. The police, in fact, had finally despaired 
of capturing him, and it was believed that he had managed to 
leave the country, as nothing had been seen or heard of him of 
late. 

Ivan was not an extremist, not one who advocated dynamite 
and the knife as the means to bring about a regeneration of 
Russia. He was at the head of a society of students who souglit 
to overthrow the present regime by lawful means— by the will 
of the people. He was truly a power amongst the country 
people, and there was, in the opinion of the police, no abler or 
more dangerous agitator in Russia. His power lay in the clear- 
ness of his reasonings, in the justice of his claims, for there was 
’Scarcely a man or woman amongst his numerous audiences who 
had not suffered some wrong at the hands of Muscovite official- 
ism. 

Well might the bureaucracy at St. Petersburg dread his elo- 
quence and grow fearful of his rising power. He was, there- 
fore, accused of having been concerned in a plot against tlie 
czar’s life, and a reward, increased from time to time, as his 
capture still remained uneffected, was set upon his youtliful 
head, 

As.hasbeen said, it was supposed that he had managed to 
quit the country, but instead he had arrived in Warsaw, and, 


THE RABBITS SPELL, 85 

tinder an assumed name and rigorously disguised, he had man- 
aged for a time to escape the vigilance of the secret police. 

At about the time this story opens, however, he discovered 
that he was watched by a man who had a suspicion as to his 
identity; so he hastily removed from the Polish capital, it being 
his intention to escape to Switzerland at the first opportunity. 

He hastened back to Warsaw, not without difficulty and 
danger, on hearing that his friend and fellow-student, Geza, 
w^as on his trial for murder that he could prove had never been 
committed by him. 

His was a generous and noble nature, and even at the risk of 
his own life he determined to save his friend. 

He little knew, however, how Geza had jeopardized his own 
life through the same spirit of self-sacrifice. 

Geza w'as not a Nihilist, and he did not even hold with the 
advanced views held by Ivan, but they w^ere stanch friends 
and had many thoughts in common. 

One evening, prior to the murder, Geza had met Ivan and 
tw’o other students at a house in the Nowy-swait, in Warsaw, 
there to discuss those vexed political and social questions which 
all free-thinking men in Russia took so deep an interest in. 
The police had made a raid upon the house. The two young 
students w^ere captured, but Geza and Ivan escaped. In his 
haste, however, a <iagger knife dropped from Geza’s girdle, and 
it being impossible for him to return for it, there it lay wffiere 
it had fallen, and was picked up by the police. 

To have stated this vrould have at once set the hue and cry 
after Ivan, who w^ould in all probability have been captured, 
and have condemned the young students already arrested, and 
against whom nothing was known by the police as Nihilists. 
So Geza had preferred to maintain a silence which was at once 
a self-sacrifice. 

During the time when the judge had been conferring wdth the 
law’ officials, Geza had offered up a silent, earnest prayer for 
help, in wffiich Mira had instinctively joined. Little, though, 
did either think that help would come in this shape. 

At first Geza’s heart beat w ith a fierce glad joy at the arrival 
of his friend, in order to declare his innocence. But in another 
moment he reproved himself for his selfishness, for he knew 
that Ivan bad by thus coming sacrificed himself. 

He knew that now the police had him safely in their clutches 
there would be no chance of escape. 

Death by the hangman, or Siberia, stared his friend in the 
face, and Geza shuddered at the picture. 

“ How could you come ? How noble you are I” he said soft 
and low, but still loud enough to reach Ivan’s ears. 

By w^ay of reply Ivan looked up with a sweet, sad smile. In 
that look he was thoroughly understood. O sweet friendship 
that could brave such a sacrifice I 

“ So, Ivan Tergenow, you have at last delivered yourself into 
the hands of justice,” said the judge. After a pause, “ How do 
we know that this is not a plot on your part, weary of life and 
troubled with a bad conscience, to give yourself up, with the 


86 THE RABBVS SPELt, 

idea of saving your friend? For you Nihilists have strange 
ideas of brotherhood.” 

“ It is not the brotherhood that hinds us, that has brought me 
here to-day. I come to save the life of a man who, it is true, is 
my friend, but he is not one of us. In coming here 1 know my 
danger. I know that I am proscribed and that a price is set 
upon my head. Ah, I see the police rejoice ” (and he cast his 
eyes across the room to the spot where the count and his satel- 
lites were grouped), “and in thus forfeiting my liberty and, 
may be, my life, the victory, I know full well, is not with me, 
but with that oppression which I have long fouglit against.” 

His face lit up with a sudden glow, and a hectic spot burned 
upon each wan cheek as he spoke, and he drew his pale thin 
hands through his long fair hair. 

“Silence!” 

The judge’s voice thundered in unmistakable anger through 
the court. 

“ You will have plenty of occasion to defend yourself against 
the charges of the law when your own trial takes place. What 
we now wish to have is evidence touching upon the innocence 
of the prisoner before us. What have you to say as to this ?” 

“Everything.” 

There was something distinctly decisive and convincing in the 
way that be uttered this word. 

“ Firstly, Geza Polinski was with me in a house in theNowy- 
swait on the evening of the 13th July last, when a sudden visit 
was made by the police. Not wishing to accompany these offi- 
cers to prison, we managed to leave as they entered the room, 
Wt two of our friends — innocent men, mark you — were capt- 
ured, and they have been lying, as yet untried, in the state 
prison in this city. It was on that night that Geza dropped a knife 
or dagger from ids girdle, the same that I now see lying upon 
the table in front of me, and by which it is said the murder with 
which my friend is charged was committed. That knife, of 
course, fell into the hands of the police, and they must know 
how it left their possession in order to do a murderous work.” 

“ Damn the fellow,” said the count under his breath and cov- 
ering the young man with a scowl. 

Mira at this point uttered a faint little shriek of joy and clung 
closely to her mother. 

“ He is innocent! Praised be the Lord!” 

Rachel answered not a word ; her eyes were riveted upon the 
witness, who, at the risk of his ovvn life, had come to give ev- 
idence as to the innocence of a man who she had firmly made 
up her mind was guilty of the crime. 

“ 1 made my way back to my hiding place,” went on Ivan, 
“ and Geza returned home. He was suspected, but the police 
had nothing against him. How could they, for he is not and 
never was one of us? That night, when we were met together 
and when we were interrupted by the police ” 

“ In a most infamous plot.” 

The words escaped from the count’s lips with a hiss, as if he 


TEE R ABBES SPELL, 37 

were unconscious of their utterance; and many a look was 
directed at him, 

“ Nay, not to plot,” and he looked the count full in the face, 
*‘as God is my witness.” 

There was something so earnest, so convincing, in this reply 
that few were unimpressed by it. 

The president, however, remained unmoved, unconvinced. 

He liad grown callous to what he termed, the ravings of mad 
Niliilists. 

Taking up his narrative, Ivan went on to say that, after this 
event, he did not see Geza for several weeks, as it would have 
been impossible to have met without considerable danger to 
both. 

If it had been known that Geza had been seen in my com* 
pany he would, I presume, have been arrested on suspicion,” 
added Ivan, “ and one knows only too well what such an ar- 
rest of an innocent man really means in this Christian land. 

“ Allow me to continue,”" he said, imperiously waving his 
hand at the judge, who, incensed at the biting sarcasm con- 
tained in his last remark, sought to interrupt him. 

“I bad made up my mind to leave this country for a land 
where freedom of thought and liberty of action are allowed, 
where the innocent ” 

“ Silence, man, you blaspheme,” and the gendarmes at a sign 
from the judge resumed with extra firmness their grasp upon 
the young man’s shoulders. 

I will be heard,” and his frame shook with fury. “It is 
not my neck that I wish to save, but that of an innocent man.” 

No one could deny the spirit of true friendsliip and sacrifice 
which inspired this reckless agitator, and which was not without 
effect even upon the soulless tribunal before which he pleaded. 

“ Yes, I was seeking a haven of rest, and all was prepared for 
my departure, and Geza had come to my lodgings to bid me 
farewell. This was on the night of the murder,” 

As he paused the excitement was intense. 

Tinkle, tinkle, went the president’s bell, and the people quieted 
down, 

“ On that night,” he proceeded, ‘‘ Geza stayed with me from 
six till eleven o’clock; and it has been found that Aaron did not 
leave Warsaw till eight, and his body was brought home before 
twelve. He had then been dead some time.” 

As he paused, the people looked inquiringly one at the other, 
and a buzz of conversation filled the stuffy court-house, which 
the judge could not stay. 

What proof have you of what you say?” asked the state 
prosecutor. 

“ Yes, what proofs beyond the mere word of a professed 
Nihilist ?” broke in an assistant judge. 

Ivan was silent, but his eyes were eagerly glancing round the 
crowded room the while, as if in search of some one. Presently 
a fiusb of satisfaction lit up the dead marble of his face. He 
had evidently discovered the one vvliom he sought. 

“ What witness have you to the truth of your statement?” re- 


m THE EABBrS SPELL. 

peated the state prosecutor, with a meaning nod to the presi- 
dent. 

My witness is there.” 

Ivan drew himself upright as he spoke, and indicated one in 
the group comprising the police officials. 

Needless to say, every one looked in that direction, and breath- 
less excitement spread around. 

“ Yes, there he stands I” 

His index finger, thin and bloodless, is rigidly pointed at one 
man who is seeking to hide himself behind Count Soltikoff. 

Gome forth, Nevikoff! Come forth, Nevikoff the spy,” and 
the wan hand held out made a commanding gesture. 

At a word from the president, NevikoJff came forward. 

“ What is it you wish of this man ?” asked the judge of Ivan, 
indicating the spy with an impatient nod. 

“ That man can prove the innocence of Geza Polinski. He it 
was who made the raid on the house when the knife was found. 
He, on the day of the murder, set a watch upon the house in 
which Geza and I were. He saw us go in and he saw us go out. 
He knew Geza, becauc>e he gave him a short salutation as we 
passed; but he did not recognize me at the moment, for I was 
toOf thoroughly disguised. That man knows right well that the 
One vvho stands here ‘Charged with the murder was, at the time 
that crime was committed, being carefully watched on suspicio i 
of being concerned in an offense of another character. This 
man Nevikoff did his work too effectually to permit of any 
movement of Geza’s being unknown to him.” 

The subdued excitement became painful as he finished. Not a 
person tliere for a moment doubted the truth of this circum- 
stantial statement, which the manner of the spy tended in a 
great measure to confirm. 

‘■ Is this as the man states?” questioned the state prosecutor. 

The spy hesitated a while. He longed to give a lie for a'n 
answer, but he dared not. The eyes of the president, of the 
two assistant judges, of the state attorney, and the whole offi- 
cial world were upon him. In matters of state he would be 
expected to lie with grace and precision, and be, in fact, en- 
couraged in such rascally barefaced ness; but in the present 
instance, when the charge was one of murder and the victim 
only a Jew, he thought he might be permitted to give the 
prisoner the berlefit that might arise from telling once in a way 
the plain unvarnished truth. 

So he told the court how he had set a watch on the house 
referred to on the night in question, having seen two men who 
aroused his suspicion entering there. He had, of course, no idea 
whatever that one of those men was the notorious Nihilist Ivan, 
or he would have at once caused his arrest. One of these men 
he, now that he taxed his memory, believed to have been the 
prisoner. 

“ Can you positively swear to this?” he was asked. The spy 
hesitated, and in that moment he caught the eye of a brother 
official who had been with him on that eventful evening. This 
man was a zealot, full of a quaint piety, and strangely given to 


THE RABBrS SPELL.- ^9 

telling the truth, lie knew that if he did not say what was 
true in the matter this man undoubtedly would, and he mighty ■ 
be disgraced thereby. 

“Yes-*yes,” he answered with no little hesitation, “ now I 
come to think of it, he is — is the man.” 

If a bomb shell had suddenly exploded in the middle of the 
court-house, a profounder sensation could not have been caused! 
than did this man's confession. 

An English public would have cast all court etiquette aside,- 
and, having first cheered the prisoner, would have soundly 
hissed the despicable wretch who could have thus seen an inno- 
cent man condemned to death without moving a step to save 
him, although the evidence of his innocence was in his posses- 
sion. 

“If you had not remembered this in time,” said the state 
prosecutor, “ the man would for a certainty have been hanged.” 

“ Don't be too hard upon Nevikoff,” whispered the count, 
“ for as a good servant I suppose he thought that a man who is 
a Nihilist at heart might as well be hanged for one crime as 
another, it being only a question of time when he would be 
forced to wear the hempen cravat.” : 

Nevikoff hung his head, making no reply. As he was oh the 
point of slinking back to his corner bis attention was arrested 
by Ivan, who in a loud voice commanded him to stay. 

“ Stay! I have not finished. It was you who raided the house 
when the knife was found; and you, better than any man here,^ 
can tell what became of it and who used it to murder the old 
man with.” / 

The judges, who had firmly made up their minds thaf Geza 
was the murderer, were visibly incensed at the direction ^which 
this new evidence was taking. Not only were their own pet 
juognostications to be dissipated, but the agents of the law 
themselves were cast in suspicion. It was with an angry frown, 
therefore, that the president turned upon the spy and asied hini 
what he had done with the knife. The spy hung his heid. His 
face wore a frightened look, and his fingers twitched nervously'. 

As the judge re-put the question he raised his I]^ad; the 
count’s intent defiant gaze was upon him, and he took at once 
courage and confidence. 

“ The knife was placed along with other things at fhe police 
bureau. It may have been stolen from there. Who knows ? 
These Nihilists have strange ways and meacs of carrying out 
their wishes; and may be a Nihilist took the weapoteand com- 
mitted the murder. Aaron Rosinsky, it is said, fpund little 
favor in their eyes,” 

“You lie.” i 

Ivan’s eyes flashed fire as he spoke, ■ (■■■ 

“ No true /Brother of Freedom preys upon the old and the 
venerable. ;No brother’s hand struck that dastardly;.blow.” 

The judge, thinking the mgtter had gone far enodgh, silenqed 
the speaker and motioned to the spy that lie might stand baqk, 
and he gladly seized the opportunity. , \ 


40 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


This done, the judges entened into an earnest conversation 
with the law officials. 

Every one the meanwhile was on the tiptoe of expectation. 

Mira did her best to suppress her emotion, but her bosom 
heaved, and the unbidden tears filled her soft violet eyes. She 
would during Ivan’s narrative have expressed her indignation 
’ in words at the perfidy of the spy had not her mother forced 
her to be silent. 

The maiden seems over-anxious on her lover’s behalf,’’ said 
the count to his friend Constantine, as he watched the emotional 
workings of Mira’s face. “ Hers is a sad lookout, I am afraid. 
Ah, me, but then the course of true love did never yet run 
smooth.” 

“ By the bye. count,” replied his friend, “ I suppose that little 
bet of ours is.off now, for the man will be acquitted for a cer- 
tainty, and there will be no opportunity ior testing his pluck.” 

Simple man !” was the count’s answer, “ Don't you know 
better the ways of Russian officialism than that ? The fellow 
may not hang for the murder, but he will in all probability be 
hanged as a Nihilist. No, mon ami, the bet holds good,” and he 
laughed a light silvery laugh that struck a chill in Mira’s heart 
as she heard it. 

The count was a perfectly heartless man, and he would as 
soon wager over a man's life as bet on a horse-race or a cock-fight. 
He was a typical Russian of a certain class. Outwardly polite 
even whilst his heart was surging with rage, with a smile on his 
face whilst his mind was full of the blackest thoughts, he had 
that knack of suppressing his true feelings and of displaying a 
mask which the uninitiated and the unwary accepted in good 
faith as the true likeness of the real man. 

He was, moreover, an accomplished liar— what Russian is not ? 
He would never, in fact, tell a truth when a lie would do, and 
in his hands a lie could be so twisted and molded that it had 
much of the appearance of, an actual truth in it. Very few 
could pierce this man’s veneer and read him as be really was. 
He was a favorite with the women because of his gallantry, of 
the men on account of his bonhomie. Oh yes, careless, good- 
natured Count Soltikoff, as he was called, had more admiring 
acquaintances and fewer enemies than perhaps any man in Rus- 
sian society in Warsaw. 

During the interval when the law-officials were discussing 
Geza’s future, the two friends crept as close to each other as the 
gendarmes would permit. They were not, however, allowed to 
converse, and all they could do was to exchange glances full of 
profound sympathy and deep attachment. 

The consultation over, the president proceeded to address 
Geza. It was an anxious moment for him. He told him how, 
after a careful consideration of the facts, the conclusion had 
been arrived at that the charge of murder against him could 
not be sustained. He would therefore be acquitted on that 
ciiarge. 

*'3avedl Thank Thee, O Lord!” - 


THE RABBI'S SPELL, 61 

The words burst unchecked from Mira’s lips in the sudden 
ecstasy of her joy. 

Silence, child,” and the mother’s hard grip fastened on her 
arm. “Listen and wait.” 

The judge looked angrily at the young girl, whilst Geza’s face 
flushed with an indescribable gladness. 

The joy of the lovers was but of short duration, 

“Yet,” continued the presiding judge, with strong emphasis, 
“although you are acquitted of having murdered Aaron Ro- 
sinsky, and the law will have to seek elsewhere for the murderer, 
there is still another count against you.” 

He paused; and Geza’s face turned deadly pale, but he strove 
to be calm, and to look away from where Mira stood. In tliat 
momentary glance that he had of her, when the judge uttered 
the last sentence, he saw the agony of doubt that was upon her, 
and he turned away bis head, lest he might become unnerved. 

He knew only too well what was coming, and that he should 
require all his strength to bear it. 

“You are accused of being a Nihilist,” continued the judge, 
“and in due course will take your trial with yonder rash and 
dangerous man for plotting against the state.” 

“ My GodI” That was all Geza could say, and his voice was 
partially choked in emotion. 

All his visions of liberty were in a moment dispelled. How 
hard was his lot! 

The announcement made a stir in court, although it vvas by no 
means unexpected; for his association, no matter how innocent, 
with so notorious an agitator as was Ivan, was in itself suffi- 
cient to warrant his detention at the hands of the police. 

Poor Mira quite broke down under this fresh disaster. She 
sobbed aloud, and her mother found it impossible to control 
her. 

“I am innocent, I am innocent!*’ and Geza’s words rang in 
piteous accents through the hot and crowded room. 

“ The time will come when you can proclaim your innocence. 
My duty now is to, commit you to prison to avvait your trial;” 

“ Remove the men,” and the president motioned to the gen- 
darmes. 

The gendarmes roughly grasped Geza in the action of removing 
him, but with an effort he shook himself free. 

“ I will be heard,” he shrieked in the intensity of his distress, 
and his eyes blazed with an angry light. “ Havel not suffered 
enough at the hands of the police ? God alone knows what I 
have suffered,” and his head* sank upon his manacled wrists, 
“ Ah, what have I not suffered ? To be led bound and cast into 
a filthy cell, badly treated and almost starved, for a crime of 
which I know nothing! Is this justice? Nay, you shall hear 
me,” and his whole frame shook with indignant fury. “ You 
now send me back to prison to be treated may be worse than be- 
fore, for what? You say I am a Nihilist, It is false. It is 
villainous. It is infamous.” 

“The man is mad,” muttered the COUUt, but not too low but 
what Geza heard. 


43 THE RABBI'S SPELL. 

‘•Mad! Ay, I may well be mad,” and he pressed the cold 
steel that clasped his wrists to his burning forehead. “What 
man can stand all this and be sane? Is there no justice in this 
Christian land? If the ‘Little Father VFnew, if onjy knew, 
justice would be dope.” i 

“Silence, man!” and the judge, beside himself with virtuous 
indignation, commanded the gendarmes to reipove their prison- 
ers without delay. 

The gendarmes obeyed, and the young men were hustled 
with no inconsiderable violence from the court. 

“ Have courage, dear brother,” said Ivan, as they were being 
dragged to the doorway. “ Have courage; we can die together, 
if so it must be.” 

For a moment their hands met in a fervent grasp, then they 
were separated. 

“Courage, Mira, courage!” whispered Rachel to her pale and 
drooping daughter, but she heeded her not. “ I have done him 
a great injustice, child, and I praj for the Lord’s forgive- 
ness.” 

“Ah!” 

She turned swiftly round as the sound of a falling object 
struck her ear. It was Geza’s knife that had dropped from the 
count’s hand. 

“Why, Soltikoff, mon ami,” said his friend, as the blood- 
stained knife slipped from the count’s fingers, and fell with a 
loud clang upon the hollow floor, “ this is not like you to trem- 
ble at the sight of a drop of blood. Why, you have hitherto 
had the reputation of being able to contemplate buckets of 
human gore without moving a muscle. I am almost inclined 
to bet against your dying game when the time comes.” 

For a moment a diabolical gleam shot in the count’s eye, but 
his face was away from his friend so that he could not see it, 
and when he turned round there was a pleasant, playful smile 
on his lips a^ h^ met his friend’s gaze, and answered: 

“Perhaps, perhaps; we often live like warriors and 

die like cowards.” ^ 

' “ Good- day, Soltikoff. I suppose we shall have you at play 

to night,” said his friend, as he gave him a shake of the hand. 
“ Good heavens! Soltikoff, what, is the matter with you ? Your 
hand trembles like a leaf. You are out of sorts. Come, this is 
not like you.” 

“Late hours, hard drinking, and fast-living are sad enemies 
to nerves,” be replied, with a soft, dreamy look on his face. 

“ You need rest.” 

^^^‘ Y.esi I shall not play to-night.” ^ 

S^‘"they: parted, the young officer wondering what had come 
to the devil-may-care Nic. to be in such a , nervous state. ^ — 

“ Some love affair,” he thought. “Even his siege- proof heart 
it seems, can be stormed;” and he asked at the club that night, 
when the count did not appear, who “ the woman ” \vas ? 

The dropping of the knife and the peculiar look that accom- 
panied it was not lost upon Rachel, but her attention was 


THI^J RABBI'S SPELL, 43 

drawn from this incident by the plaintive sobbing of her daugh- 
ter. 

“ Mother,” she asked between her sobs, her eyes following the?-. 
direction her lover had gone, “ will they keep him long?” 

“ Have courage for the worst. Mira,’’ and her hard features ; 
relaxed under the piteous appealing eyes of her daughter^ ■' He, 
is not a Nihilist, it is true, but no man suspected of Nihilism, 
unless he be rich arid powerful, can hope for much at the hands, 
of these fiends, no matter how innocent he may be. It is enough 
fora man to be arrested to be guilty, and if they do not con- 
demn him to die they may send him, all innocent though be is, 
to a fate that is worse than death.” 

“Worse than death — have pity, O Lord 1” 

Rachel felt a sudden dead weight in her arms. Mira had: 
fainted. • 


CHAPTER X. 

BY GRACE OF THE CZAR. , J 

The weeks lapsed into months, and early autumn had come 
round again, finding Geza, still untried, in prison. 

The murder of Aaron was practically forgotten ip, , the pew 
excitement which filled the public: mind. , . 

The czar was coming to Warsaw. 

Great preparations were made on, all sides in connection with 
this event. The Russian inhabitants intended to make up in 
loyal demonstration what the Poles would in their disloyalty be 
wanting in. The leading Poles, for their part, simply held 
aloof ^ they professed to take no interest, one way or the other, 
in the event. 

The police were extraordinarily busy. All persons who were 
suspects, all those who had been tricked into a declaration, of 
alleged disloyalty, the free-thinking and freedom-loving, young 
and old, were alike promptly arrested and conveyed to durance 
vile. The quaint old state prison was full to oyerfiowing with 
such people, innocent of a-ny crime, unconscious of any guilty 
thought. . 

“The Little Father,” argued the police, “ must have a Joyal 
welcome when he arrives in Wamavv,” arid ^ bo one, hdt nven 
t lie oppressed Pole, must have occasion either for expressing bis 
.disloyalty or bothering his majesty with hackneyed stofies^’ of 
personal wrongs. ' - 

. What easier, then,, than to straightway confine, during the 
czar’s stay in the cit}, all those who might come vvithin the 
above specification ? * ; : ^ 

So the police fell to work with vigor, and tore the father from 
,his childreu, husband from wife, arid the only San from the 
widow, and bade them taste prison fare and prison discipline. 

The czar has arrived in Warsaw, and ostentatious homage is 
done to him by the time-servers^ the sycophants and the 'official 
World in general. The hirelings shout their loudest and groVel 
their lowest, as lie passes along, inspires them, and 

metallic considerations sustain them, ^ . v 


44 


THE RABBrS SPELL, 

Such loyalty, such contentment, were never heard of before. 
It was altogether unexpected. The czar, accepting all tliis hom- 
age as genuine, is visibly affected. Tt was more than he had in 
any way anticipated. 

He is" in an exceptionally good humor, and smiles benignly 
on all as he makes his way, seated back in a handsome carriage, 
to the Hotel de Ville, where a grand reception was to be held 
that day. 

How the shouts and acclamations rise to the skies as the czar 
enters the gateway, how the horses prance and shy at the noise 
and the glitter of the drawn swords and naked bayonets of the 
soldiery drawn up in the courtyard as the carriage draws up! 

How the soldiers glance with contempt at the well-paid servile 
crowd, and, in their hearts, as they salute the “Little Father,” 
long to sheathe their glittering steel in the breasts of his ac- 
claimers. 

There is no spirit of compromise in these men. They cordially 
hate the Poles, as they, and their fathers before them, have been 
taught to hate them. They would rid tlje city of disloyalty by 
fire and steel instead of subterfuge and oppression, and their 
blood-thirsting spirits chafe at the outward expressions of devo’ 
tion which permit of no opportunity of their giving vent to their 
feelings. What mattered it if the innocent suffered, so long as 
it went forth to the world that no expressions of disloyalty were 
at any time heard during the czar’s visit ? What greater proof 
could there be of the contentment and loyalty of the Poles than 
in this utter want of public disapprobation ? 

Did the czar know of this? Surely not, or such disgraceful 
acts of tyranny would never have been permitted. 

He was full of satisfaction at his visit. On every side he re- 
ceived the homage and praise of official sycophants and drilled 
hirelings. Not one sound of disapprobation, not one expression 
of disloyalty reached his ears as he drove through the streets. 
Those in the mercantile and in the poorer quarters, who were 
not already in prison, wei’e strictly ordered to keep within 
doors and behind windows whilst the Czar of all the Russias 
went his way, under penalty of partaking of that prison hospi- 
tality which their more unfortunate compatriots had already 
had forced on them. 

“ If on^ the ‘ Little Father ’ knew!”— how the words of Geza 
echoed in Mira’s brain as she heard of these things. Tl)e words 
haunted her by day and by night. If the “Little Father” only 
knew of the injustice done to her lover, would he not extend 
mercy unto him ? 

If he only knew, and why:' should he not know ? Thus argued 
til©, maiden, and as she argued ilius -to herself she formed a des- 
perate resolve in her heart, ^ j 

HeijJover vvas innocent of sheddiffg ^ler father’s blood, and 
she could without shame openly plead Tor him, instead of, as 
before his acquittal, praying and pleading for him in secret. 

Her resolve was a desperate one, but she would stand by it, 
alone and unaided, and the “ Little Father” would be just and 
merciful as becameThe ruler of his people. 


45 


THE RABBVa SPELL. 

As the carriage draws up and the emperor alights, a sbiiek 
rends the air. He turns and sees a young woman dragged from 
under tlie horses’ hoofs, escaping injury almost by a miracle. 

She is somewhat roughly handled by the gendarme who has 
caught hold of her, but the czar motions for him to release 
her. This is done, and in a moment she has cast herself at the 
emperor’s feet. 

Tiie Little Father” starts, for he is in hourly, nay, moment- 
ary, fear of attacks by Nihilists of both sexes. He does not see 
that the woman is young and beautiful, and that her eyes, suf- 
fused with tears, are gazing up imploringly at him. He only 
I»erceives a person who appears to be a female kneeling at his 
feet in distress, a distress which may be but a cloak to hide mo- 
tives of wild revenge. 

Instinctively he lays his hand on his sword and starts back in 
alarm. The constant fear of' assassination, the highly-strung 
state of his nervous system, has made this man, brave by nat- 
ure, a coward — a coward starting at his own shadow, ready to 
draw his sword at an imaginary danger, upon an unarmed, de- 
fenseless woman. 

In a moment she is surrounded, and rude hands clutch her 
tender shoulders. 

She raises her veil. 

It is Mira! 

“ ' Little Father,’ ” she cries in piteous tones, “ in thenanle of 
God and for mercy’s sake liear me!” 

By this time the czar has recovered from his alarm, and, in 
regaining his composure, has time to observe the girl kneeling 
at his feet. The look reassures him. He is a good judge of 
character, if somewhat weak of purpose, and his intuitions have 
never been known to lead him astray. 

How much better it would have been for him if he had had 
the courage or the strength to at all times have acted up to those 
intuitions! 

He sees that the supplicant at his feet is not acting a part, 
that she is not of the stamp of which conspirators are made, but 
that she is a woman laden with some heavy trouble. His kind, 
fatherly heart is touched, and a gracious smile overspreads his 
pale and thoughtful countenance as he asks for the meaning of 
this appeal. 

He orders the rough hands to release her, and immediately she 
is freed from their touch. 

“ I pray you be careful, your majesty,” said one of the most 
honored courtiers. “ These Nihilists have the cunning of Satan 
himself with the affected innocence of angels.” - 

“Never fear, good Tremlikoff,” answers the czar,^ v^ith a 
gentle, reproving smile; “you mistake the maid. Besides, 
what is one against so many ?” ; . . ' 

“Then turning to Mira, he says, “ Come, what seek.^ou of 
your emperor?” 

“ Justice! mercy!” was all poor Mira could at first starinmer 
^orth. . 

The czar sighed a little wearily. Before he had been in the 


46 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 

Polish capital many hours he had been inundated with petitions 
all couched in the same tone — pleading for justice, begging for 
mercy. What could he do? Did he not employ judges and 
law-givers to see that justice was shown to all, and mercy ex- 
tended to the deserving I Could it be that they neglected their 
duty? If he only thought so! The czar, who was a stern 
lover of justice, ground his teeth with rage. 

Had he proof of one thousandth part of the cruelty and op- 
pression exercised in his name he would have made use of his 
despotic prerogative to some purpose. As it was, facts were 
kept from him. Petitions rarely fell into his hands, except 
those couched in language of homage and praise. But by acci- 
dent, or by carefully arranged design, there had come under his 
personal attention, during his short stay in Warsaw, petitions 
which utterly belied the loyal and satisfied expressions which 
he saw and heard everywhere around him. 

He had put aside these petitions for future reading, but in the 
momentary glance allowed him by his oflScials, who seem d urn- 
founded with amazement as to how they came into their impe- 
rial masters hands, he saw that one and all began with urgent 
claims for justice and appeals for mercy. Was all this outward 
loyalty and homage but a sham, and were there in this city 
those who were the victims of cruel injustice and bitter wrongs 
done in his name? Here at least was a girl young and tender, 
who at personal risk had sought him out to throw herself at his 
feet, begging for justice. 

His face wore a sad, weary look as she repeated her words in 
a low, supplicating tone. What wrong could one so young and 
fair be suffering? he asked himself, and he determined to hear 
her. She should have the advantage of personally stating her 
case, and he could form his own conclusions without having to 
wade through a host of papers full of heartrending generalities, 
to think of which made him shudder. 

“ What is your name?” he asks, gently motioning her to rise. 

“ Mira Rosinsky. I am a Jewess.” 

At this point Count Soltikoff whispered something to the 
court chamberlain who stood, by, and that functionary ap- 
proached his majesty, and said in an undertone: 

“She is the daughter of a notorious money lender, your 
majesty, whose extortions have caused serious disturbances of 
late in a neighboring village.” 

The czar waved the high official away impatiently. He was 
somewhat familiar with the nature of these disturbances in con- 
nection with the Jews, although he knew not one-tenth of the 
actual truth. 

“ Is it of your father you would speak?” 

“ No, your majesty, I have no father,” and her eyes refilled 
with tears. 

“ No father?” and he looked inquiringly at the chamberlain. 

“ My father is dead. He was murdered.” 

“Murdered!” and instinctively the czar glanced nervously 
around. 

But has not his murderer been punished ?” he added. 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


47 


*‘Nay, your majesty; he has not as yet been discovered. 
They wrongly arrested one who is dear to me, and falsely ac- 
cused hiui of the murder, but the great Lord, who protects his 
own, did not forget him in his sore need, and he was acquitted.” 

‘‘And it is of this other that you would speak with me?” 
gently interrupted the czar. “ In what way has justice gone 
astray that you should come to me ?” 

“ He is still in prison, your majesty, and there they keep him 
from those whom he loves.” 

“ impossible!” hotly exclaimed the emperor. “ An innocent 
man kept in prison after his innocence has been proved — impos- 
sible!” and he cast his eye angrily on the group of police oflScials 
standing near him. 

“ Where is the police president?” That functionary bedng ab- 
sent, Count Soltikoff approached and made his obeisancje, ex- 
plaining that in the absence of his chief he was ready to furnish 
his majesty with any information he might require relating to 
the matter. 

“How comes it as this maid says — and her words bear the 
imprint of truth — that a man acquitted of crime still lies in 
prison ?” 

“ It is true, your majesty, that the murder was not brought 
home to him, but the police have still a graver charge against 
him — that of plotting againt the state even to compassing the 
sacred life of your majesty. He is a Nihilist!” 

At the word Nihilist the czar’s blood ran cold, and nervously 
his hand wandered to the hilt of his sword. These constant 
plots against his life, this terrible fear that at any moment, in the 
midst of life, he might be sent to his last account by the most bar- 
barous and horrible means, had served to unnerve him beyond 
all description. The natural generosity of his nature was thereby 
soured, and the frank kindness of his heart tainted with suspi- 
cious disbelief, serving to make a vvell-disposed ruler fast de- 
velop into a despot. 

The count saw that his shaft had struck home, and he smiled 
to himself with evident satisfaction. 

“A Nihilist, say you? It is ever so when one wishes to see 
justice meted out to those who ask it; it is only to find that the 
one for whom it is demanded is unworthy.” 

All his old suspicions and distrust had revived, and the look 
he cast on Mira was far from reassuring. 

To his mind she might be an emissary of this terrible brother- 
hood, who, under pretense of appealing to bis mercy, might be 
awaiting the opportunity to take his life. 

He had often been warned by his satellites against hearing 
these petitioners, who might seize such a chance for striking a 
death blovv; but he, unhappy monarch that he was, with the 
moans of the suffering and the shrieks of the murdered ever 
ringing in his ears, was so anxious— God only knows how anx- 
ious- -to do a kind action, a just deed, for once, and this chance 
had seemed to him to have come in the plaint of the girl Mira. 
But, like all other appeals to his mercy, it was another Dead Sea 
apple— dust, dust, dust. He could not eat of the fruit and be 


Tim nABBVS SPELL. 


48 

refreshed, for what appeared to be fair and true was but a sham; 
fordid she not plead for a man who was a Nihilist, and one 
who had even plotted against his life? He had determined to 
show no mercy to these cruel, misguided men, who sought to 
right what they termed their wrongs by blood, the first blood 
sought to be shed at tlie altar of their enterprise being his own. 

His face grew black and angry as he thus mused, and he drew 
a few paces away from the girl. 

Mira had heard the count’s words, and saw their effect. It 
was life or death with her, and quick as lightning she again 
threw herself at the czar’s feet. 

‘ Little Father,’ hear me,” she cried. “ It i? not true. Geza 
Polinski is no Nihilist!” 

Her face was white and bloodless, but her lips were firmly set 
wdth determination, and who could resist the pleading of those 
beautiful, mournful eyes? 

The czar paused, and a sad and gentler expression came over 
his face as he answered: 

“ Alas, these things are only too true, I fear.” 

“Do not believe all they tell you, for they speak falsely.” 
She grew bolder as she went on: “ Geza is not a Nihilist, and 
never was. Your majesty has no more devoted subject than 
he is. He said in court, when they were taking him away to 
that dark, terrible cell, ‘ If the “ Little Father ” only knew — if he 
only knew!’” 

She paused, and her voice was husky with emotion. The czar 
himself was evidently moved. 

“ His words,” she went on, “ burnt deeply into my heart, and 
I determined you should know the truth. I said to myself, the 
‘ Little Father,’ who is just to his people, shall know, and he 
shall judge of our wrongs. I will throw myself at his feet and 
he will take off the burden of this terrible wrong, and we shall 
live to bless him for it, and our prayers for his life shall be ever 
on our lips*and in our hearts.” 

The czar’s hand played listlessly with the gold tassels on his 
sword-hilt as she finished speaking, and for a few moments he 
was silent. .. 

“ Tiie ‘ Little Father,’ ” he at length said with a smile, “ ^fsh^ 
to be just to all. Tell us, maiden, what you have to say.” 

In simple words she poured forth her story. She told how 
her father had been murdered, and how the man who loved her 
had been arrested on the charge of having committed the crime, 
whilst the^ actual criminal had escaped. In pathetic tones she 
described how Geza !iad declined to s^ak lest he might jeopard- 
ize the life of another, and how that one had come forward, 
and at the risk of his own freedom had stated facts which proved 
her lover’s innocence. She left nothing untold. Her whole 
heart was laid bare, and the czar felt that she spoke the truth. 

“The matter shall be inquired into,” he said, as she finished 
her story, “ and you may depend upon our seeing that justice is 
done,” and he turned aside as if to end the interview. 

A look of blank despair passed over Mira’s face. She knew 
what this meant. Anxious as the czar might be to seo right 


49 


THE RABBITS SPELL, 

done, she was convinced that no sooner did he leave the city 
than all hope for Geza’s freedom would be gone. She only too 
well knew that the officials would distort facts, and so present 
the matter to the emperor that he would be compelled to believe 
in Geza’s guilt. What chance ever had a poor friendless wretch 
arrested on a political charge? Like many another innocemt 
man, he would either find his way to the gallows or the Siberian 
Mines, according to the degree of guilt established against him 
by blind vindictive officia'ism. 

She moaned aloud in the fullness of her heart’s distress as she 
heard the czar’s last words. 

He was evidently startled by this expression of feeling, for he 
quickly turned toward her. He noticed the pallor of her face 
and the look of hopeless agony. 

“ What more can be done for you ? How can the matter be 
judged in a moment ?” he questioned querulously. 

Suddenly an idea seemed to strike him, and he turned ab- 
ruptly to address a tall and handsome-looking personage in full 
regimen tab'., whose eyes were firmly bent; upon the kneeling 
figure of Mira, mechanically pulling his long mustache the 
while. 

This man was Prince Bela Krinitza, a descendant on the pater- 
nal side of those old German Ritters who centuries ago built 
their castles high and strong on the shores of the Baltic; on the 
maternal side he claimed descent from the great Chinges Khan. 
As far back as the days of Ivan the Terrible bis people were 
great and powerful in the land. 

He was an imperial aid-de-camp, and an especial favorite of 
the emperor. His influence about the court was very consider- 
able, not only on account of this favoritismj but because of 
his extraordinary individuality. He influenced everybody with 
whom he came in contact in the most remarkable degree. 

He was a man of intense will-power, and he invariably had his 
own way in everything; no one caring, or even daring, to resist 
him. 

His will, however, was ever exercised for good. Of a fine, 
itpble presence, and kindly geneious heart, he was generally 
rnucb respected and beloved. Absolutely incorruptible amidst 
the corrupt surroundings, none ever thought of questioning or 
doubting his word. He, of course, had his enemies, and his 
natural compassion and hatred of oppression were attributed by 
them to a sympathy with the tenets of Nihilism. It was true 
he was a vigorous opponent of the tyrannical officialism which 
strangled justice and personal liberty; but even the most daring 
of his foes hesitated to give expression to his thoughts against 
one who enjoyed in such a singular manner the protection of 
the czar. 

The prince had the character of being a seer, one who read 
men’s hearts like an open book, and who could even forecast 
the future, having, it was said, acquired this faculty as much 
on the ground of his Tartar descent as from long residence in 
the East. 

True it was, he had often, by exercising his power of will, sent 


50 


THE RABBVS SPELL, 


people into a mesmeric sleep, profounder and more striking than 
that produced by the professed mesmerists: and when thought- 
reading came into vogue he speedily proved himself an adept m 
the art of divining the thoughts (»f others. 

So great was his reputation in this direction that, taken with 
the high esteem in which he was generally held, a man wpuld 
hesitate ere he came to him with a lie on his tongue, and a 
woman think twice before trying to involve him in an intrigue. 

Prince Bela read characters excellently well, 

“ What do you say, you who seem to know all things ? Does 
this maiden tell the truth?” 

There was a curious eagerness in the czar’s voice as he asked 
this question. It appeared as if he were anxious to get a con- 
firmation of his own convictions, which certainly ran in Mira’s 
favor. 

“ It is as she says, sire,” and his eyes were bent full upon the 
czar as he spoke. 

What eyes they were! He had inherited them from his 
mother, the only feature he possessed that evidenced his Tartar 
descent. Tiiey spoke as eloquently as vvords. They were eyes 
at once kindly and stern, and such as one could not look at 
steadily. It would be difficult to define their color. The task 
had been essayed in vain by the most beautiful women of the 
Bussian court, with whom he found particular favor. At first 
sight they would have been pronounced black, yet when the 
light was on them they shone forth glossy and blue. They were 
reported to change color, and were not alike to all men. In 
some lights they seemed to shoot forth rays of grayish steel, 
while in anger they were actually streaked with red, emitting a 
flash as of fire. 

With this reply his majesty gave a distinct sigh of relief. 

“Know you anything of this man, Geza Polinski?” finally 
asked the czar, sinking his eyes under the intensity of those 
Tartar orbs. 

“ Sire, you have been graciously pleased to ask me for my 
opinion, and I freely give it. I was at the prison to-day. As 
your majesty is pleased to remember, I take a deep psychological 
interest in crime and in evil-doers generally; when I was there 
the governor asked me to try my amateur hand at reading the 
thoughts of two persons who were confined there as Nihilists. 
One of these men was Geza Polinski.” 

Hepaused. 

At the mention of her lover’s name Mira felt her heart beat fit 
to leap from its bounds, and her whole frame thrilled tumultu- 
ously. 

“ A.nd?” asked the czar. 

“ I took occasion to study the young man, and I must confess 
to being most favorably disposed on his behalf. He is certainly 
no Nihilist. The very Nihilists themselves deny him, and say 
that he has never been one of their party. He is not the stuff 
of which conspirators are made. I take him to be a well-mean- 
ing enthusiast, indiscreet maybe, but certainly not criminal. 
The other man, Ivan Tergenow, is a Nihilist without doubt. He 


51 


THE H ABBES SPELL, 

glories in his opinions, and takes a mad delight in the extreme- 
ness of his views. He altogether denies that the man Geza has 
ever had a hand in any Nihilistic movement whatever; and he 
defies the police to prove the contrary. It is the opinion in the 
prison, sire, that so little has been discovered against the pris- 
oner Geza Polinski since Ids incarceration, that had the young 
man but friends and money be must be acquitted when the trial 
comes on. But the man appears to be without either influence 
or money, and ” 

“ He shall be acquitted all the same,” broke in the czar, with 
visible eagerness, and unusual firmness of voice. 

The prince bowed. He had gained his point, and a pleased 
flush spread over his face, and the soft kindly gleam which, 
women loved to see came into his eyes. 

Yes,” continued the czar firmly and imperiously, “ the man 
shall be free, and at once.” 

A cry echoed these words of clemency, a cry that bespoke 
speechless, thankful joy; and Mira, in a second’s space, w^as 
madly clasping the czar’s feet in the ecstasy of her gratitude. 

The emperor was evidently affected by this unsophisticated 
display of emotion, and having, as he thought, said all that was 
necessary under the circumstances, he was anxious to end so 
affecting a scene. 

He stooped— yes he. Alexander, Gzar of all the Russias, actu- 
ally stooped — to this lowly- born Jewish maid, and gently un- 
clasped the hands which grateful love had so firmly fixed upon 
him, whilst outraged ofidcialism looked on aghast. 

He then turned round and moved toward the entrance hall. 
His foot was on the step when Prince Bela approached, and, 
being welcomed to dp so, spoke to him in an undertone. 

“ True,” said the czar, “ there is in such matters no time like 
the present;” and he took from his breast a pocket-book, and 
wrote a few lines upon the fly-leaf. 

He tore out the page and handed it himself to Mira. 

Mira’s heart gave a wild, exultant bound as she received the 
paper from the imperial hand; but her emotion prevented her 
from uttering those thanks which had stopped half-vvay in her 
throat. 

She could hardly believe her eyes as she stood with the paper 
in her hand, ravenously scanning its every word. 

Yes. it was true, all true, aiid her Geza would be free— free! 

O Great God, O “ Little Father,” how bright and gladsome 
everything seemed to her! How light was that heart that had 
hitherto been so heavy! The joy that was within her was al- 
most killing in its intensity. 

There was not a moment to lose. Free must her Geza be, be- 
fore the sun that was now upon the wane had set in the western 
clouds. 

She did not wait to see the czar go up the steps and enter the 
banqueting-hall followed by his courtiers and his counselors, 
but, with the paper containing the golden words of clemency 
grasped tightly in her hand, she flew with the swiftness of love 
on her errand of mercy. 


5 ^ 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 


Oq she went, neither looking to the right nor to the left, till 
she reached the prison where Geza was confined, 

^ CHAPTER XI. 

I AT THE PRISON’S GATE. 

? The state prison at Warsaw has not an inviting appearance. 
It is a dingy, dirty, disreputabledooking building, standing back 
from a narrow out- of the- way street. This street is paved witli 
rough stones, and there is scarcely an even spot in its entire 
length and breadth. Locomotion is diflacult and unpleasant, 
and seated in a drojlci, with the horses slipping right and left on 
the uneven pebbles, one receives a jolting sensation never to be 
forgotten. It is thus that the prison is approached. 

A huge, cumbersome gate shuts the prison courtyard from the 
street; this gate opened, one passes across the ilhpaved yard up 
a flight of well-worn stone steps, where another black and 
weather-grimed door bars one's progress. 

With the unbarring and unlocking of this door one is within 
the precincts of the prison itself. 

A deadly gloom comes over one as the door is closed, and un 
consciously one finds oneself thinking of the passage about all 
hope departing from those who enter such a place. 

There is no lack of the ofiScial element about the place, and 
rough, huge men attired in uniform, with a brutal animal ex- 
pression on their faces, everywhere meet one’s gaze. 

From such men the unfortunate prisoners confined therein 
can neither hope for nor expect pity or kindness. 

The most unintelligent, the most brutal, and the most slav- 
ishly obedient men are invariably chosen for such positions in 
connection with the prisons throughout Russia. 

With such officials kindness of heart or tenderness of thought 
would be looked upon as an unpardonable weakness, and to 
have anytliing but a blind belief in the absolute guilt of any 
prisoner within the walls would be nothing short of heresy 
itself. 

These men were well selected for the work that was required 

' of them, and they dni their best to act up to their duty accord 
ing to their light. 

There was, hovvever, one royal road to their favor. They, 
brutal as were their instincts, were, in their greed, but human 
after all. Not one of them was superior to mammon, What 
Russian official indeed can refuse a tip? 

The high or low, the well, or the lowly- born, one and all in 
Russia, worship with a debasing abjectness the golden calf. 

There is scarcely an official in this holy Russian Empire who 
would not for a certain metallic consideration betray his trust, 
and for a like consideration the servant will deny his master 
and the lover his mistress. There are also numerous instances 
where similar monetary advantages have induced persons hold- 
ing high rank in Russia to convey the wives of their bosom to 
the rich and the powerful. 

One of the most influential officials in St. Petersburg owes the 


THE RABBVS SPELL. dS 

position he now holds to having at the outset of his adventurous 
career literally sold his wife to a man of influence about tbe 
court. From that moment his rise was rapid. In seekiug to 
exchange obscurity for power the Muscovite is not troubled 
with conscientious scruples, nor does he consider himself bound 
by moral obligations. 

They are very venal in Russia. The servant who opens the 
door, up to the minister of state, seated in his gilded chamber 
transacting the business of his department, can be got over by 
judicious tipping. 

There is scarcely a single official who will refuse a tip; only 
considerable discretion must be exercised in the way in wiiich 
the tips (according to the rank of the one to be tipped) are dis- 
tributed. 

Tipping is practiced as a fine art in Russia, and the novice is 
likely to come to grief at the outset in seeking to distribute his 
little favors indiscriminately; for there is no one so severely vir- 
tuous as the Russian official when the amount of the pourhoire 
is insufficient or is injudiciously bes\owed. There is an unwrit- 
ten law in connection with this matter, a knowledge of which 
may be of service to the uninitiated. 

To a servant or any minor attendant tips can be openly given. 
They need not be large; but, to insure faithfulness, they must be 
frequent. To a major-domo, an aid-de-camp, or any such person 
of trust, the tip must be delicately as well as ingeniously con- 
veyed. For instance, on taking your departure, after a call, 
you press his hand in a courteous adieu, slipping, unconsciously 
as it were, a note as you do so. Such a person can tell almost 
by instinct the full value of such a tip without looking, his 
palms, as it were, being gifted with the faculty of ^ight. You 
cannot be too particular as to the amount, lest you wound the 
susceptibilities of this class of official by offering him too small 
a fee. He has a long memory, and is invariably vindictive. 

The greatest possible care must, however, be taken in convey- 
ing tlie golden solace to a minister or a person high in author- 
ity. 

Many seekers of favors at ministerial hands have, in the vul- 
gar tongue, come a cropper through the injudicious offering of 
tips, either on the ground of pecuniary unsuitability or in the 
method of their conveyance. 

A minister whose palm is itching with uncomfortable eager- 
ness for the backsheesh, would freeze the woulu-be donor with 
a becoming, virtuous indignation should the gift be openly 
offered, or make him tremble for his very life if the amount 
does not come up to ministerial expectations. 

The method most in vogiie in connection with notables is to 
convey the bribe in such a manner as to suggest accident rather 
than intention. 

For instance, you have interviewed the minister and have 
stated the nature of your requirements, and are s^king for an 
opportunity to pass over a becoming souvenir which shall com- 
mend you to his personal consideration. 

You cannot offer to tip him .outright, and he would scorn to 


THE It ABBI'S SPELL: 


U 

receive it with a hand shake; so, having already placed a note 
in the pocket of your coat-tail, you, in taking your farewell, put 
your hand behind, pull out (quite casually) your handkerchief, 
and out flutters the said note — the minister’s perquisite. 

Such an act requires, however, somewhat delicate manipula- 
tion. If the note falls sufficiently near to the desk where the 
minister sits, he gets it in due season, as a matter of course; but 
if it misses its mark and flutters in the other direction, toward 
the major-domo, that functionary straightway appropriates it 
as his perquisite. This annoys the minister, and is naturally 
prejudicial to your suit. 

You should also exercise great care in seeing that the note is 
of a becoming fair value, otherwise, although you may dexter- 
ously flit it in the required direction, you are liable, having 
wounded thereby the virtuous susceptibilities of the official 
whose favor you are seeking, to be arrested for attempting to 
bribe a minister — a serious offense. 

The author has had considerable personal experience in Russia 
in this direction, and he has no hesitation whatever in condemn- 
ing the all-round system of bribery and corruption which pre- 
vails throughout the Russian Empire. 

One experiences considerable difficulty at times in seeing one’s 
personal friends, unless the servants who answer your call are 
first judiciously “salted,” for they wull, with unblushing ef- 
frontery, bar your progress, denying the fact of your friend 
being at home, although, in all probability, he may be anxiously 
awaiting your arrival. The arrangement of the palaces and 
larger houses in St. Petersburg is such as to favor these acts of 
impertinent extortion. 

As a case in point, the author was the bearer of a letter of in- 
troduction to Monsieur de Giers, the Minister of Foreign Af- 
fairs. On calling at the palace he found that the minister was 
attending a council of state; so, leaving the letter and his card, 
he went on his way paying other visits. 

On returning to his hotel he found that Monsieur de Giers had 
sent down two messengers, saying that he would be pleased to 
receive him at once if he would make a point of calling at the 
palace. The matter being of some urgency to the author, he 
drove at once to the minister’s residence. 

The door w^as opened by a gorgeous functionary, who straight- 
way said that the minister was not at home. 

“ Not at home?” asked the author in considerable surprise. 

“ Not at home!” and the gold-bebraided and eagle-bedecked 
individual made in bis rudeness a movement as if to close the 
door. 

“ But this is impossible,” the author went on to say. “His 
excellency has sent tvvo messengers to my hotel saying that he 
is at home and desirous of seeing me.” 

“ By my God, he is not at home,” answ’ered the man, and 
there was distinct hostility in his tone. The author was not 
to be put off. He felt instinctively that the man was lying, so, 
looking him straight in the face, he said. 

“ Wiiat does your God cost?” 


THE BABBITS SPELL, 


65 


‘‘ Ten rubles,” was the gruff reply. Tlie ten rubles (a little 
more than £1 sterling) changed hands. The surly man became 
all smiles and obsequiousness, and the author was immediately 
shown up-stairs where Minister Giers was awaiting him. 

The minister, in fact, had been waiting for him some time. 

The author could multiply the above instance a hundred- 
fold, but this one is a fair sample of the whole. 

With the Germans, who hold so many oflSces of trust in the 
empire, it is very different. 

The Grerman official is not only intelligent and chivalrous, but 
he is the soul of probity itself, and it is a rare thing indeed for 
such a person, even in Russia, to be bought with money. His 
imperviousness to this species of corruption naturally makes 
him severe upon those whom he suspects of yielding to a bribe, 
and he is apt to deal with exceptional severity with those under 
him who may be caught red-handed in the act. 

Just as no man places the remotest reliance on the unbought 
promises of the Muscovite oflScial, every confidence is bestowed 
on the German, who, although a strict disciplinarian and a lover 
of routine, acts with perfect justice and impartiality, and whose 
word once given can be implicitly relied upon. 

But to return to the prison. 

It was growing dusk when Mira reached the prison doors. 
She had stumbled rather than ran along the uneven way, and, 
in her haste, had once or twice almost fallen; so that, when she 
knocked at the outer door of the somber jule in which her lover 
was confined, she was quite out of breath. 

A man, a rude mixture between a soldier and a turnkey, soon 
appeared and demanded what she wanted. His manner was 
rough and far from inviting. She told him briefly. He laughed. 
He had been drinking, and thought that she, in the extrava- 
gance of her statement, had been drinking also. 

“Tell that to the marines,” he would have said, had he been 
an Englishman, but, being a Cossack and unfamiliar with the 
phrase, he put a finger, a broad dirty finger, to his nose and 
winked. Mira was perfectly horrified; the man’s manner was 
most revolting. The sweetness of her face attracted the ruffian’s 
attention, and the look of pain which was now spread over it 
afforded him no little amusement. 

“Come a little nearer, myjdear,” he hiccoughed, and, half 
opening the door, he endeavored to chuck her under the chin. 

“ Coward, brute!” she said, starting back as to evade his touch. 
“ Is tliis how you treat the weak and the undefended ?” 

The man looked at her unabashed. He was quite familiar 
with such displays of indignation, as he claimed as a sort of 
perquisite a kiss or an embrace from the wife, sister, sweetheart, 
or what not of every friendless young prisoner confined in that 
dark unwholesome building at his back, whose summons he 
might have occasion to answer. 

“ Let me in!” almost shrieked Mira in her despair. “ I must 
see the governor. See, here is the order from the czar,” and 
she held out the paper on which the magic words of clemency 
were written. 


56 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


“Bah!” he grunted. “The governor sees no one at this 
hour.” 

“ But this— this — it is the ‘ Little Father’s’ own handwriting.” 

He burst into a loud laugh at this. Could anything be more 
absurd ? A paper signed by the czar, indeed, in the hands of a 
Jewish girl — the lover of an imprisoned Nihilist! It was too ri- 
diculous, and he gurgled forth fresh laden laughter. 

“ See, here is the czar’s own signature, written with his own 
hand.” 

“ I don’t believe it; and I can’t read,” he growled, making an 
unsuccessful snatch at the paper at the same time. 

At this moment some one else came upon the scene, apparently 
attracted by the janitor’s merriment. 

The new comer was the governors secretary. He was a sleek, 
venerable-looking man, with a dark gray mustache, benevolent 
blue eyes incased in spectacles, and a fattish nose, slightly col- 
ored by cold or spirit at the end. 

Mira took courage on seeing this comfortable-looking man 
approach. 

“ Will some one take a message for me to the governor?” she 
said. 

“ What do you desire of the governor?” he asked in his sleek- 
est tones; and the softness of his voice fell like oil upon the 
wounds caused by the janitor’s harshness. 

“ I wish to see him on a matter of vital importance; it is a 
question of life* and death,” she* replied, with much energy. 

“ Let the maid come in,” he said to the janitor, after he had 
scrutinized the girl very closely. 

The gate was opened, and Mira entered the courtyard. With 
the slamming of the door, and the grating of the key in the 
lock, she gave a start of alarm, 

“ Don’t be afraid,” said the oily-spoken secretary, “there is 
nothing to fear.” 

“ You can go,” he added, turning to the man, who was play- 
ing with the huge keys dangling from his belt. 

The man obeyed. 

“Just won’t he bleed her!” he muttered to himself, with a 
broad grin, as he went his way. 

“ She would have got off much cheaper with the kiss I asked 
her for; but perhaps money is of no account to her,” and his 
black, greasy palms twitched uncomfortably at the thought. 

“ If I had only known it for sure I would have bled her my- 
self, that I would.” 

“ Can I see the governor at once?” asked Mira, very plead- 
ingly, when the man had disappeared. 

“ What is your business?" was the soft reply. 

“ Ob, it is urgent, very urgent.” 

She was afraid to show him the czar’s order for her lover’s 
release; the attempt of the janitor to possess himself of it by 
force had thoroughly alarmed her. 

“ I am very sorry, my pretty maid, but the governor is not at? 
home, Can I do anything for you?” 


THE RABBITS SPELL, HI 

His manDer was so very affable, so very agreeable, that Mira’s 
alarm somewhat melted. 

“ It is very good of you, sir, but ” 

“ Not at ail, not at all,” and he bowed with smiling self-abne- 
gation. 

His back was now' turned to her, and behind him he held a 
fat open palm, which seemed to be silently saying; “All con- 
tributions dropped herein will be most thankfully received.” 

She had heard from her father much concerning the system 
of bribing in vogue amongst Russian officials, and she saw at a 
glance that one royal road to this man’s favor was by tipping 
him. 

She fetched out her purse and slipped a note into the extended 
palm. 

The hand, which was not ashamed of taking what the eye 
was not supposed to see," clutched with a sudden snap on its 
prey. 

“ Only a ruble,” he muttered to himself, with evident dis- 
gust, as he caught sight of the color of the bill as he transferred 
it to his pocket. 

“ The governor, I regret to say, is not at home,” he said, once 
more facing her. “ But if I ” and again his back was to- 

ward her. and the sleek hand held out invitingly. 

Poor Mira! How this voracious shark annoyed her, yet how 
helpless she was! Here w^as she detained by this man, when 
every moment was of importance to the one whose pardon she 
held in her hand. 

If she showed him the order, she felt that unless his monetary 
scruples were satisfied he w’ould either declare his inability to 
read it, or take possession of it to deciplier it at his leisure. All 
government officials in Russia are surrounded by no end of such 
underlings, whose methods of obstruction and ways of extor- 
tion are infinite. 

You no sooner bribe one underling than there comes another 
of a slightly higher grade, and so on, and so on, until you come 
to the head official himself, when oftener than not he requires 
his share of the filthy lucre. 

Mira saw that there was nothing else to do but to bribe the 
man, otherwise she might be left alone in the courtyard to 
bear the insults and the torments of the rough men who hung 
about there. So she hastily placed another note in the itching 
paw. 

Once more closed the rapacious digits, and its contents 
brought to the light of those greedy eyes peering beneath the 
blue glass spectacles. He only used spectacles as a blind. 
They made him look more venerable on the one hand, and he 
could always, in case of necessity, plead a convenient short- 
sightedness on the other. 

“ Three rubles— come, that’s better,” and the notes went the 
same way as the previous one. 

His manner was, if possible, a trifle more affable than before, 
as he once more turned and faced his agitated victim. 

‘^Oh, now I come to think of it, his excellency is at* home.” 


58 


TBE RABBVS SPELL, 


‘‘Yes?” with much eagerness. 

“ Only he is asleep, and must on no account be disturbed.” 

“But if I ” 

His back was again toward her, and the plump, perspiring 
hand assumed the same suggestive attitude. 

“Take it— it’s the last I have,” and Mira, in her indignation, 
flung her remaining note at him. 

“Five roubles, by the good Saint Peter,” he said, with con- 
siderable satisfaction, as he caught the note adroitly, and saw 
its full value by the light of the oil-lamp stuck on the pillar of 
the gateway. 

The secretary’s face was fairly wreathed with smiles as it was 
turned toward her, and he made her a bow, so marvelously 
polite had he suddenly become. 

“ Oh yes, the governor loas at home,” he hastened to inform 
her, although he was afraid it would be impossible for her to 
see him that evening. Could she not come in the morning, 
when she might thoroughly depend upon his doing all that was 
necessary to ensure an interview; and he gave her such a sweet 
encouraging smile as he spoke. Having extracted the last 
golden egg at the present sitting, he was by no means in a hurry 
to kill the goose whilst there was the possibility of squeezing 
another egg out of her. 

“ Yes, come to-morrow, lady miss, and I will arrange for you 
to see the governor.” 

“ But I must see him to-night; it is so urgent, oh, so urgent, 
for the freedom and safety of a man are at stake!” almost 
shrieked Mira in her despair. 

“ Pray be calm, or some of those rough fellows may hear you, 
and they are not pleasant companions, I can tell you. But 
what is your name ?” 

“ I am Mira Rosin sky.” 

“ The daughter of the man who was murdered last year?” 

“ His daughter, yes.” 

“ So,” thought the blood-sucking wretch, “ she is his daugh- 
ter, is she? Well, she can afford to be bled, and bleed her I 
will, or my name is not Andrew Timashef.” 

“ What do you wish of the governor ?— a sight of your lover, 
eh?” and he winked, yes, actually winked, under his spectacle?. 

“ Well, I think I can manage that for you, although they 
guard him very closely. He is very violent at times, they say, 
and requires careful watching.” 

Mira shuddered, 

“Of course, I should run a great risk in arranging this little 
matter, for Nihilist prisoners are not allowed to receive visits 
from their friends or relations, no matter how near they may 
be. 

“ But then,’' he continued, “ one would risk much to oblige 
one so charming as yourself,” and the old rascal simpered be- 
nignly. 

“And then, good deeds are sometimes remembered on earth 
as well as in heaven.” 

|_The look that he gave her, m l the a^ffectionate, confiding 


THE BABBrS SPELL, 50 

sigh that accompanied his words, told her, as plainly as words 
themselves, what he was after. 

“ But Geza is free.’’ 

“Free?” 

“Yes; I have only to see the governor and he will be re- 
leased.” 

The secretary looked at her with benevolent pity in his eyes. 

“ I am atraid there is no release on this side of the grave.” 

“You must not say so — ;^ou dare not say so! See, here is an 
order from the czar/yes, signed by the ‘Little Father’ liimself, 
saying that Geza is free— free to leave here, and breathe the 
fresh air once again.” 

Compassion, gentle compassion, was the absorbing look upon 
the oily Andrew’s face as he heard her thus deliver herself. 

She was mad, he thought; grief and care had affected her 
brain. He did not deign to glance at the paper wl)ich she 
grasped in her hand. Such an order was, of course, a myth, a 
phantasy conjured up in her disordered brain. 

She was not the first distracted woman who bad come raving 
and crying at those prison gates, begging for the release of their 
loved ones. Some bad come with the name of the czar on their 
lips, whilst others had pleaded in the name of their patron 
saint. With one it was the autocrat on earth who had told 
her that the victim of officialism must be free, whilst an- 
other claimed that St. Philip himself had spoken his ])ardon 
direct from heaven. 

“ No,” thought the man, “ she is as mad as the rest of them, 
poor thing,” and he assumed an attitude of suitable commis- 
eration. 

Mad though she was, be must of course humor her, he argued 
to himself; and so, taking advantage of her infirmity, enrich 
himself accordingly. 

But Andrew’s golden dreams were doomed to disappointment, 
for, just as he w^as counseling the now fully exasperated maid 
to wait with patience till to-morrow, when he would see that all 
she wished was duly arranged, the sound of horses’ hoofs and 
carriage wheels was heard coming along the roughly paved 
street. 

The carriage drew up suddenly at the prison gate, and soon 
the bell was summoning the custodian with a loud clang. 

The summons was immediately answered, for that imperious 
ring he knew meant something. 

He opened wide the gate to let in the visitor, whom he re- 
ceived with great deference. 

Mira noticed all this with interest, and saw that the new- 
comer w^as tall, and that a light fur-tipped coat was thrown 
over his shoulders, partly covering the uniform he wore be- 
neath. 

He approached the spot where Mira and the secretary were 
standing, his spurs clanking the while on the coarse stones with 
which the court-yard was flagged. 

“ Can I be of any service to you ?’’ he asked, with a courteous 
salute. 


THE RABBPS SPELL, 


6D 

Mira looked up, scanning the face of the stranger eagerly, and 
as she saw who it was her heart took courage, for he who stood 
before her was the one who had that afternoon interceded fpr 
her lover with the czar. 

“Thank the Lord it is you, sirl” she said with fervor. “This 
man” (turning to the sleek and incorruptible Andrew, but that 
individual had already beat a discreet retreat) “forbids my 
seeing the governor, and, after taking my money, treats me as 
if I were mad. They are all so cruel, so very cruel,” and the 
pent-up tears burst from lier eyes. 

This stranger was the only man who, unasked and unsolicited, 
had shown her sympathy in her disti'ess, and had spoken a good 
word for her lover — that word, in fact, which had undoubtedly 
influenced the czar in his decision. 

“ But even cruelty has an end,” he said, wdth a gentle en- 
couraging smile. “ i knew you were here,” he continued, “ and 
I am glad that T have arrived in time to help you.” 

“ He knew I was herel” thought Mira; “ what sort of man is 
this?” and, as she looked into the mystic depths of those dark 
eyes, that were bent so kindly upon her, she w^as moved 
strangely, for she felt that she was in the presence of no ordinary 
man. 

“You are very good, sir,” was all she could murmur. 

“So you wish to see the governor, and get your lover released 
at once ?” 

“Oh, yes, sir, at once; it is but justl” 

“lam afraid you know but little of the ways of our official- 
ism,” he replied with a faint, reproving smile. “ Justice is not 
to be had for the asking. But I have to see the governor my- 
self at once on another matter, and, if it can be so arranged, 
your lover shall be free this very night, or at the latest in the 
morning.” 

“But, sir ” 

“ I know wffiat you would say. True, an innocent man should 
be released on the moment; but just as the song-bird cannot find 
wings for immediate flight when the cage door is opened, so the 
political prisoner for much the same reason cannot go forth 
into the world when the voice of pardon bids him leave his 
cell.” 

“ Do you mean that he is ill, that he is too w^eak; that ” 

“ Pray do not distress yourself. There is no cause for alarm. 
I would only point out that the order for his release is so sud- 
den that he may not be ready to don the garb of innocence and 
freedom at a moment’s notice.” 

Mira smiled— the first smile that had illumed her face that 
day. She understood the delicate implication. 

She did not know, however, the actual state of her lover’s 
wretchedness. She thought he might be clothed in prison gar- 
ments, unshaven ahd unshorn, but little did she think that at 
that moment he was groaning in the wretchedness of a stifling 
atmosphere, scantily and foully clothed, wdth the iron bauds 
eating into his ankles and wrists. 

Happy for her that she was denied the power of second-sight. 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 61 

‘‘ If you will give mo the czar’s pardon I will attend to every- 
thing,” he said. 

She fetched it from out of her bosom, where she had placed 
it for safety, and, without hesitation, handed it to him. There 
was about him that which inspired confidence and trust, and 
not for a second did she think of doubting him. 

“You have faith in me, I see,” and that sweet, sad smile, 
about which poets wrote and women raved, came over liis hand- 
some features. 

“As in the great Jehovah,” was the reply delivered with all 
earnestness. 

“ This is no place for you, and duty calls me,” he said hastily, 
as he saw some soldiers mounting the stone steps leading to the 
cells on their way to relieve guard. 

“ My carriage shall take you wherever you wish to go, and 
before the sun sets to morrow, and may be even before it rises 
again, your lover shall be free to go where he lists — and.” he 
added smilingly, “one does not need to be a prophet to tell in 
which direction he will wing Ids flight.” 

They were now outside the gate, which the man had opened 
with great alacrity and much obsequiousness at a sign from the 
stranger. 

“ You have not told me where you wish to go,” he said, as his 
hand was upon the handle of the carriage-door. 

“ I live some miles from here,” and she mentioned the name 
of the Jewish village in whicli she dwelt. 

As she mentioned the name of the village, a dark, pained look 
swept like a shadow across his face, and he whispered some 
words in a strange tongue to his coachman. 

“ You must hurry,” and his voice was somewhat agitated as 
bespoke. “ The clouds are black, and a storm tlireatens.” he 
continued, and, after a pause: “Your mother is alone, and may 
need you.” 

There was something in his face, in the far-off look in his eyes, 
that filled her with a vague alarm. She had a presentiment of 
coming evil, of some fresh and terrible calamity that was creep- 
ing upon her. 

“I can never thank you enough,” and her voice had in it a 
grateful ring. She was now seated in the carriage, and in the 
thought of how much she owed this stranger she for a moment 
shook off the gloom that was overshadowing her. 

“You have not told me your name,” she said with much 
eagerness. 

“ My name is Bela Krinitza—here, so,” and he handed her bis 
card. 

“ But why do you ask ?” 

“ So that your name have place in our prayers.” 

He bowed his head. 

“ We shall meet again?” she asked with eagerness. 

“ In this world, may be. never,” was the solemn reply. 

The coachman touched his horses, which sped on, leaving the 
prince standing by the gate alone. 

. “ The clouds are black,” he muttered mournfully, “ and soon 


62 


THE RABBPS SPELL, 


they will be raining blood. Heaven grant that thos?e fiends 
may spare the widow and the fatherless in their lust and hatel” 
A moment later he re-entered the prison. 


CHAPTER XIL 

IN THE CELLS. 

■Warsaw’s prison was full to the brim on this autumn night. 
Hundreds of innocent people had been torn from their homes or 
arrested in the streets, and hurled into the jail’s dark and noi- 
some dungeons, for no crime whatsoever than that of being 
“ suspects ” in the eyes of the police. 

The police in Russia have an authority which knows no 
bounds save, of course, the direct commands of the emperor; 
and they often exercise with the grossest cruelty and injustice 
the terrible power intrusted to them. 

They assume the right to suspect any one of discontent, and 
they never hesitate to act upon this mere suspicion as though 
the crime were already proved. 

The unhappy victim may be as loyal as the police president 
himself, but his innocence will avail him nothing if some mem- 
ber of the secret police should in spite or in fancy, find some rea- 
sons to suspect him of disaffection to the crown. He is straight- 
way arrested, and goes to swell the number of innocents who 
already choke the prisons. He may have, it is true, the oppor- 
tunity of proving his innocence in court, but friendless and 
moneyless such a trial would be but a mockery of justice, and 
his proofs of innocence would be idle as against the mightier 
manufactured evidence of the police. 

With political prisoners matters are scarcely better to-day 
than they were in the Emperor Nicholas’ time, when there were 
no open courts and no judges to hear the facts; and the unhappy 
wretch suspected by the police had no resource against the 
wrong done him except to resign himself to what his religion 
taught him might seem to be the will of God. 

The Warsaw police took full advantage of the exceptional 
powers which they enjoyed, and like sleuth-hounds tracked the 
unfortunates to their peaceful lairs. Without notice or without 
warning men and women were dragged from their beds and told 
to. come with them at once. There is no argument in such cases; 
ewrything is done with a brutal precision that admits of no 
delay. 

They are not even told the nature of their crimes; the men 
who arrest them are simply acting under “superior ord rs,’' 
and they do their duty with a stern sullenness that forbids in- 
quiry. 

What matters it to these tyrants how the innocent suffer, or 
whether the weak and sickly lay up death and disease through 
the harsh treatment which they undergo? 

What matters it so long as the czar runs no risks, that he can 
see his faithful police have done their duty, and that it can go 
forth to the world that Warsaw turned out without one dis- 
sentient voice to welcome the autocrat of all the Russias ? 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 


63 


Truly tbe police never give a thought to the miserable indi- 
viduals who lie between the prison walls all the time the czar is 
in Poland, and who even on his departure are not sure to be re- 
leased. 

In the prison, where fine distinctions are not generally drawn 
in connection with crime, some of the sheep will naturally get 
mixed up with the goats, and run the risk of being tried for 
crimes of which they would not have the remotest knowledge. 

Thanks to the loyal aspirations of the secret police, many a 
broken-hearted wretch would hereafter be working in the Sibe- 
rian mines, vaguely wondering in his hopeless agony w^hat he 
had done to suffer so much. 

So active had been these limbs of the law in their arrests that 
the accommodation of the prison was stretched to its utmost 
limits. 

Several prisoners, who hitherto had suffered separate confine- 
ment, had for tbe first time for months company in their misery. 
This did not improve matters much for them; for though, in 
captivity, companionship has its charms, a cell made expressly 
for one person would have its disadvantages when forced to con- 
tain five or six persons. But such it was. Men and women 
were huddled together like beasts, and in one cell was a little 
golden haired child who had clung to his mother when she had 
been torn from her home, and who was lying on his parent’s 
breast in the midst of this scene of unutterable misery and 
horror. 

Geza and Ivan had been somewhat more fortunate. With the 
influx of fresh prisoners Ivan had been taken from his den and 
brought to the cell which contained his friend. 

The prison authorities had an object in this. In their superior 
wisdom they imagined that if the two men were confined to- 
gether they might indulge in confidences, and so betray their 
secrets. With this object in view they set some one to spy on 
them, day and night. 

Their cell is underground, and to reach it one has to go along 
a dark slimy passage and down a flight of broken steps. The 
cell is quite dark, but a tallow candle burns in the passage out- 
side, casting feeble ghostly rays into the chamber itself through 
the grating at the top of the iron-bound door. Escape from such 
a hole would be impossible. One remained there but to die or 
to become hopelessly insane. 

The two men were lying each upon his rough wooden bench, 
which was without mattress or pillow. Small though the cell 
w'as, they were chained in such a manner that they could not 
touch one another. 

A damp atmosphere hangs about the room, and a horrible 
fetid smell fills the nostrils as if wild beasts were confined 
therein. 

The wretched men have been seeking rest, but sleep is shut 
out from their eyes. The vile smells almost choke them, the 
unclean things that infest the moldering bedding in yonder cor- 
per have no more mercy than the tyrants whose victim^ they 


64 


THE RABBITS. SPELL, 

are; the rusted iron cuts into their wrists and their ankles, and 
the pangs of hunger and of thirst are upon them. 

God have pity on them! 

A moan fills the cell; it comes from Ivan, who is tossing in 
pain upon his wooden couch. 

The faint yellow light of the candle spluttering in its socket 
outside falls upon his face. 

He is as pale as death, and there is that about him that tells 
the onlooker that he is not long for this world. 

‘‘ Great God! I choke,” he moaned in his agony; my throat 
is on fire, and I can scarce find breath.’” 

Geza.’^ 

The name was almost shrieked by the suffering man. 

Are you here ?” 

Yes, Ivan, yes,’^ replied Geza soothingly, 

-Then I am not alone. I have been dreaming, Geza, and 
I thought that they had taken you away, and that 1 was alone. 
It would be too horrible to be here all alone— ay, too horrible, 
too horrible,” and he broke into sobs. 

*‘ Have courage, Ivan; they will not part us.” 

''Courage!” replied Ivan bitterly; " what is the use of cour- 
age in such a place as this? Chained here in darkness like a 
wild beast, fed on offai that no beast would deign to eat, given 
to drink salted liquor that leaves one with a terrible thirst— a 
thirst that plagues, and chokes and maddens. What hope is 
there; Of what use can courage be ? May the curses of Heaven 
fall upon our tomentors, may 

Hush!” 

Geza spoke the word softly, and he held up his hand to indi- 
cate silence. His quick ear had heard a light footstep outside. 
He looked up at the grating of the door, and as he saw he shud- 
dered. Two dark cruel eyes were peering through the bars. 

The spy was on the watch. 

Lonely though these two men were, they were not alone; 
from dawn to dusk, although they might not know it, there 
were ever two cold freezing eyes watching them, and two ears 
ready to catch every word they breathed. 

Interrupted in his denunciation of those who had inflicted so 
much misery upon him, Ivan burst into a violent fit of cough- 
ing. 

It was the cough of the consumptive. 

How with each effort his poor chest shook and his breath 
caught, fit almost to choke him! Now he is foaming at the 
mouth, and the white on his swollen tongue is flecked with red 
— the red of his life-blood. 

By and by the cough ceases and all is still, and were it not for 
the short, labored breathing that occasionally smites the air, one 
would imagine that life with him was extinct also. 

“ Ivan,” broke in^Geza, softly, as he looked up fearfully at 
those iron eyelets, “ the man is gone.” 

Ivan was silent. 

" Ivan, are you better?” 

4 faint moan was the reply. 


THE UABBVB SPELL. 


65 


“ Iv^an!” (this time in evident alarm.) 

The man thus spoken to roused himself up a little. 

“ Geza, is that you?*’ he asked, as of one in a stupor. 

“ Yes, Ivan, are you ill? You seemed so silent just now, and 
you moaned as if you were in pain,” 

“Yes, the pain is here — here,” and he clutched at his heart. 

“But it will soon be overlay, soon over,” he added, vrith a 
faint, sad stnile. 

“ No! no! not that!” broke in bis friend; for there was no mis- 
taking Ivan’s meaning. 

“You will be better soon.” 

The young man sadly shook his head. 

“Not on this side of the grave.” 

Once more was the footstep heard outside, and, on looking 
up, Geza again encountered those hateful spying eyes. 

His indignation knew no bounds; and he would have given 
worlds for a free hand and something to hurl at the grating — 
anything, no matter what, that would even for a moment inter- 
fere with that maddening watch. 

All he could do was to gnash his teeth in impotent rage and 
gaze angrily back at the eyes that were fixed so steadily upon 
him. Then they seemed to fascinate him, to mock him, and 
draw him as it were out of himself. 

It was too horrible. 

Do what he could, he could not take his eyes from off that 
grating. There were the coldly glaring orbs, and there he must 
look. 

At last a movement of Ivan on his bench smote his ear; it 
broke the spell. 

He tore his eyes away from the grated door, and, in sheer 
weakness and despair, buried his face in his hands. 

When he again looked up the face had disappeared. 

“Geza, Gcza.” 

It w’as Ivan’s voice, but so soft and low. 

“ Are you there? It is so dark, and I cannot see you.” 

“Yes, Ivan, I am here. Are you better?” 

“ Better?” (how soft and sad w^as his voice!) “ Yes, Geza, the 
saints are no longer cruel. My prayer is answ^ered. Ah, how 
I’ve prayed to God for His pity and His comfort, and He has 
heard my prayer. The end, Geza, is not far.” 

For a moment he was silent, whilst his friend felt a vague 
sense of dread stealing over him. 

“ Come a little nearer, friend — brother.” 

Geza tugged and strained at his chains, but the iron held 
firm; that cruel iron which stood between him and his dying 
companion. 

“Give me your hand, Geza.” 

“O God!” groaned Geza in his agony. “’Alas, it is im- 
possible.” 

The iron bands held him as a vise, and the staples remained 
fast in the w'all. 

“You will find it here” (and his hand pressed his bosom); 


ee THK RABBrS SPBLL 

“ they did not find it when they searched me.’^ How faint his 
voice had become, and how difficult it seemed for him to speak. 

“It is for my mother. She lives in the Petit Moskai; 203 is 
the number of the house. You will not forget ?” 

“ I will not forget.” 

“ Send it to her when you are free; for you must be free ere 
long. Promise me.” 

“ I promise.” 

As Ivan murmured his thanks and then relapsed into silence, 
Geza was awakened to the fact of how impossible it would be 
for him to fulfill the promise he had just made. 

Free indeed; when would he be free? — he a prisoner chained 
in a dungeon, denied the common necessaries of life, and 
treated with a barbarism unparalleled in a country outside of 
Russia! 

Free! He free! 

The thought was a mockery, a bitter, hateful mockery. 

Some such thoughts as these filled his mind as he brooded 
over the utter abjectness of his lot, when his reverie was broken 
in upon by footsteps coming along the passage. 

They were changing the watch. 

No. Some one was putting a key in the lock. 

Click went the bolt as it shot back, and the heavy iron-bound 
door slowly opened. 

The young man did not even look up; he was too much en- 
grossed in his sad, haunting-thoughts to care what this intru- 
sion meant. 

“ Which is Geza Polinski ?” 

No answer. 

So deep was Geza in thought that he did not hear his name 
called. 

“ Is the fellow asleep ?” some one said, 

“ Let him sleep; it will do just as well to-morrow,” replied 
another. 

“ No,” answered the first speaker. “ It’s the czar’s order, and 
the governor said ” 

“ He was to be released at onee,'^ broke in a voice, which, 
despite its severity, had a strange melodiousness about it. 

The men turned rouud sharpl}^ Standing by their side was 
the tall figure of an oflScer; he had come upon them so suddenly 
that no one had noticed him. 

“His highness,” they muttered in a low tone, and they sa- 
luted him with much obsequiousness. 

“ Show a light,” he said in a tone of command. “ and go in.” 

Geza lifted up his head as they entered; the light dazzled his 
eyes and the voices perplexed him. Some one was calling out 
his name. What could it mean ? 

“I am Geza Polinski,” he said, pulling himself together; 
“ what do you wish of me?” 

“You are free, man— free! Do you hear?” 

Geza had heard, but he received the news as one stunned. 

The news was too good. They were mocking him. 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


67 


“Why mode he asked, with much bitterness. “Why 

this cruelty ? Have I not already suffered enough ?” 

“ It is DO mockery. You are free,” repeated the man. 

“Freer and he burst into a shrill doubting laugh. “Free! 
Why then am I thus chained ? Why am I denied the fresh air 
and the liberty that others enjoy? Free! How can this thing 
be when I am thus?” and he held up his manacled wrists. 

“ ’Tis true,” and a compassionate hand was laid upon his 
shoulder. “ The czar has ordered your release.” 

Geza looked up into the warm depth of the eyes that were 
bent upon him, and he took comfort at once. That man at least 
was no mocker; he at least spoke the truth. 

“Free, and by the czar’s order!” he repeated with amazement 
to himself. “ But who told the czar of my sufferings and my 
wrongs ?” 

“The one who holds you dearest in all the world,” was the 
stranger’s reply. 

“ Mira?” With her name he coupled a blessing. “ And you, 
sir?” 

“I am simply here to see that justice does not lag,” he an- 
swered simply. 

How little Geza knew what he really owed to this noble-look- 
ing man with the soulful eyes and compassionate voice! 

“Begin your work, men,” continued the stranger. “Ten 
roubles to the man who gets through the first ring.” 

The men set to work updh Geza’s chains with a vigor, and 
soon his feet were free. 

A strange numbness seized his ankles as he endeavored to 
stand. He could feel, now that the iron rings which had so 
cruelly cut into them were off, that the joints were bruised an d 
swollen. 

Then followed the rings round his wrists. They were sol- 
dered, and had to be filed through. Swiftly plied the files in 
the hands of these rough men, who, infiuenced by the one who 
commanded them, and stimulated by the promise of a reward, 
w’orked with a will. 

Snap! The last ring was off. Geza was free! 

A mad joy coursed through his veins as he saw the last band 
fall to the ground, and he felt himself truly free. 

In the emotion of the moment he clasped his hands together 
and prayed, and with his prayers were mingled sobs. 

No one could look on unmoved. Geza presently felt a touch; 
the stranger’s hand was on his shoulder, 

“ Come,” he said. 

“ But Ivan, my friend ?” and the recollection of the promise 
he had made his companion flashed across him. 

He went over to where his friend lay, so silent and so still. 

“ Where is that you spoke of?” he said quite low, so that no 
one should hear, ^ 

No answer. ® 

“I am free!” He would have shrieked the word in exulta- 
tion, but there was something in the stillness around which 


68 TBE UABEVS SPELL. 

struck him with awe; so his voice died away to a whisper as he 
spoke. 

He put his hand in his friend's breast, and, sewn in the shirt, 
he felt a hard substance. He ripped open the secret pocket and 
drew forth a packet. 

I have it,” he whispered. 

“ Ivan!” 

Still no answer. 

Could lie have fainted, or was he fearful lest those around 
would hear? These were the thoughts that quickly coursed 
through his mind. 

“ Come from here; the atmosphere is choking,” said the 
stranger, grasping Geza by the arm. ‘‘Come, a carriage 
awaits you. There is danger in delay, for the one whom you 
love may need your help this very night.” 

How prophetic sounded the stranger’s words! 

“ Who are you, sir, that you should show me, a stranger, so 
much kindness?” and Geza’s eyes swam with tears of gratitude. 

“lam simply a friend of the oppressed, and the sworn foe of 
that brutal c*fficialism under which this unfortunate country 
groans; but we must away,” 

“ But ray friend ?” broke in Geza, casting a wistful glance at 
the silent Ivan. 

“ He is past all help from us,” replied the stranger solemnly, 
“ The Lord has him in His keeping.” 

CHAPTER XIII. 

TAKING HIS CUE. 

“Well, what news, Nevikoff?” 

The count is seated in his study, busily poring over some pa- 
pers in front of him, as Nevikoff, the spy, enters in seeming 
baste. 

“ Bad, your excellency.” 

“Bad?” 

“For the Jews, ves.” 

“How so?” 

“ The whole village of Rudzisk is in great disorder, and out- 
breaks against the Jews are hourly expected. The people are 
marching excitedly up and down the street, vowing vengeance 
on all Hebrews, money-lenders or otherwise. It will be a lively 
time for our long-coated friends before the night is out,” con- 
tinued the spy with a sardonic smile, “ unless they can induce 
their ancient prophets to intercede on their behalf.” 

“ What, have things gone so far?” 

“ They could not look more threatening, your excellency. 
The Jev/s are wild with fright, for they know only too well 
what little mercy they are likely to receive at the hands of the 
people when they have once tasted blood. The rabbi has sent 
urgent appeals to the police president for help, and I have come 
from the central bureau direct to receive your excellency’s in- 
structions.” 

“Sol” 


THE BABBITS SPELL. 69 

With this exclamation the count lapsed for a moment or so 
into thought. 

“ But few men can be spared for such a purpose,” he said, at 
length. “Whilst his majesty is here, almost the whole of the 
police force is required in Warsaw; and, for my part, T have 
my commands to remain here in case of necessity. It does 
seem a pity, however, that these unfortunate people should 
have their throats cut and their shekels taken from them for 
the want of a few swords to protect them— not that the Jews 
deserve, however, much consideration at our hands; only, the 
emperor being here, it might come to his ears, that we looked 
on whilst they were being slaughtered right and left, doing 
nothing to save them. His majesty, as you know, Nevikoff, 
has a tender heart, and takes much interest in the welfare of 
his people, whether Christian or Jew. This makes him some- 
what severe upon us poor officials, who are supposed to act up 
to the regulations in vogue in the Emperor Nicholas’ time, and 
let those believers and unbelievers fight it out at their own 
sweet will. But these things nowadays get into thd foreign 
papers, and the journals at home, thanks to a wise censor, not 
being allowed to air their eloquence over the alleged wrongs 
and misfortunes of others, his majesty draws his inspirations 
from the foreign press, and in his present mood he is most sus- 
ceptible to what the papers say about him and the country over 
which he rules. Times have sadly altered since Nicholas’ days,” 
and the count heaved a sigh. 

“But we must not sit still. Take this order to Valoneff” (and 
he wrote a few lines on a piece of paper). “ He is to start at 
once for Rudzisk, with half a dozen men. Valoneff is the very 
man for the work; he has none of your fine emotions of con- 
science, and, if I remember rightly, he loveth not the Jew. 
This will lead him to prevent the Hebrews from slaughtering 
good subjects of the czar, in case they should get the mastery 
over the people.” 

Valoneff, it should be added, was an anti-Semite of the most 
pronounced type. He was a brute, without one redeeming virtue, 
and, as the count justly said, the very man for such work. 

It is stated that once, when sent upon a similar expedition to 
save a Jewish community from the attacks of an infuriated pop- 
ulace, he and his men made common cause with the Christian 
assailants, robbing with them, ravishing with them, and even 
murdering with them. 

Such was th(j man Count Soltikoff sent to the relief of the 
Rudzisk Jews. 

“ You are to go too, Nevikoff,” said the count, when he had 
finished his instructions with respect to Valoneff. 

“ I, your excellency?” 

“ Yes, but in another capacity.” 

The spy bowed; he felt flattered at being specially picked out 
in this manner by his chief. 

“ Do you know the house of Rachel Rosinsky ?” 

“ Quite well, your excellency.” 

Do the people threaten her wuth the rest ?” 


70 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


“She more than any other, as she is reputed to be the richest 
woman in the village.” 

“Then, Nevikoff, it will be your duty to protect her.” 

A curious smile hovered over the count’s face as he spoke, 
and it was met by a cunning, inquiring look on the part of the 
spy. 

“If, in seeing that she and her daughter take no barm,” added 
the count, after a pause, “you happen to come across the old 
man’s ledger, do not fail to bring it here, as it is believed that 
there are entries in it of which, the police should have cogui- 
zance. Since the old man’s death, the woman keeps it, I under- 
stand, in a safe in the down-stairs room. She, doubtless, will 
have the key about her, but she will surely hide nothing from 
one who seeks to protect her and her interests. Her money is 
also kept in that safe.” 

At the mention of money the spy’s eyes glistened with un- 
checked eagerness. 

“ You must not, of course, let this tempt you,” added the 
count, with much meaning, “ but you are at liberty to remove 
any valuables you may find to a place of safety^ in case of 
necessity. Tbe widow and the fatherless must have your every 
protection.” 

The spy bowed again. The prospect of speedy promotion and 
much loot agreeably stared him in the face. What a pleasure 
it was to serve so considerate and thankful a chief! 

His face was all beams as he turned and asked the count if be 
had any further instructions for him. 

“That is all,” was the reply; and the spy, with an obeisance, 
proceeded to depart. 

“ Stay!” 

The spy paused with his hand upon the door. 

“ There is one thing more. It would be as well to remind 
Valoneff that the rabbi is not exactly a persona grata with the 
police — not that that matters much, for a man of so much in- 
fluence in the village will be scarcely likely to ask for or to need 
help at Valoneff’s hands. That is all, Nevikoff, except that you 
are to report yourself here on your return, no matter at what 
hour. I shall be up, and in this room.” 

•Nevikoff smiled and bowed himself out. 

He was not a man to forget his cue. 

“ That book here, and the rabbi gathered amongst his fathers 
— for the mob will assuredly attack him first— I have nothing to 
fear,” counseled the count with himself, when the spy had de- 
parted. “ Nothing to fear,” he repeated with emphasis. “ Soon 
the whole affair will be forgotten, and — why, what is to-day? 
It is twelve months ago to-day since the ohi man died,” he mut- 
tered, and the recollection struck an accountable, chill at bis 
heart. 


THE RABBI'S SPELL. 


71 


CHAPTER XTY. 

SPOILING THE JEWS. 

The calm of the early night in the village of Rudzisk was 
broken by savage yells. 

The Christians commenced their attack upon the Jews. 

Starting from their sleep, little sloe-eyed children saw their 
parents or their relatives running down the one street of the 
village in haste and in terror, pursued by a howling, ruthless 
mob. 

The sight was enough to make those young hearts turn sick 
with horror. 

Shriek upon shriek rent the air as some of the unfortunate 
people were overtaken, cast down, and robbed in sight of their 
trembling children. 

The Jewish villagers seemed incapable of resistance. They 
were unarmed, whilst the enemy had collected all the weapons 
they could lay their hands upon, and, fired with drink, they at- 
tacked with a fury and a madness all who came in their way. 

The wretched victims rushed hither and thither — anywhere, 
nowhere— closely followed in their aimless flight by the relent- 
less foe. 

Old women and young; little boys and girls, as, half dressed, 
they had run out in their terror to join their parents; here an 
aged man^ scarcely able to walk himself, was helping along his 
wife, a cripple; there an agonized mother with a baby pressed 
to her breast — all formed a portion of the hurrying, fleeing 
throng. 

Some rushed into the river, and in the morning their dead 
bodies were seen floating betw’een the banks. So those who 
had escaped the murderer’s knife had only done so to be 
drowned. Others managed to escape into the woods; and 
they, under cover of the darkness, were safe. 

Many sat with their faces between their hands, like creatures 
in a deathly trance, heedless of the expiring cries of the peo- 
ple around "them. They, however, did not escape molestation; 
the men among them in their turn received the savage blow, 
and the women had the vile, lustful arms thrown around 
them. 

The Christians” showed mercy neither to men in their greed 
nor to women in their lust, but robbed and raped, murdered 
and pillaged, throughout the whole of that mellow autumn 
night. 

Not a few, when the attack first commenced, took refuge in 
their houses, which tljey hastily barricaded. 

But this availed them little. Their means of defense were but 
few, and such wretchedly built huts as they inhabited w^ere in- 
capable of resisting the determined attack of the c: \ged fiends, 
who, armed with crowbar and pick, carried everything before 
them. 

Where were the police all this time? Protecting the Hebrews? 
Certainly not. 


?2 


THE R ABB VS SPELL. 


They had arrived on the scene in the midst of the outbreak, 
but they had not moved a finger to help the panic-stricken, de- 
spairing wretches, to protect whom it was their duty. 

Their duty, but certainly not their pleasure — for the men had 
dismounted at the nearest dram-shop, and were allowing them- 
selves to be treated by the very men whom they ought to have 
put under arrest. 

One poor wretch, with blood streaming from bis face, who 
bad been brutally robbed by a band of men who were pursuing 
him with savage yells, flung himself, in his terror, at the feet of 
Valoneff. 

“Getupl” said that worthy, administering a brutal kick by 
way of emphasis. 

Tiie abject wretch, however, clung tenaciously to the lieuten- 
ant’s boot-encased legs. 

‘‘ Curse you,” he said, you have spilled the wodkiV and be 
ran him through with his sword. 

The man gave a sickening yell, and fell back dead. 

Servants of the czar in the execution of their duty must de- 
fend themselves against such murderous attacks,” said Valo- 
neff, coolly wiping his sword on the dead man’s body ; and he nod- 
ded thanks to one of the robbers who had refilled his glass with 
spirit — at his own expense. 

Whilst this horrible scene w’as being enacted, the czar, wholly 
unconscious of such a thing, was calmly sleeping in the old 
palace of the Polish kings at Warsaw. 

On the morrow he would have left the city, anTi he would 
never know the true story of that infamous midnight attack 
upon hundreds of his most law-abiding and harmless subjects. 
The tale of the carnage, of the heartless robberies, and the bru- 
tal outrages worse than death, would be told to him in the usual 
way by some privileged courtier; and the kind-hearted, well-dis- 
posed kaiser would be made to believe, through this distorted 
narrative, that the Jews were the actual aggressors, and that 
the Christians, and not they, had been done a vile and blootly 
wrong. 

Almost at the first a portion of the mob had gone to the house 
of the rabbi. 

“Come forth, you Jewish dog!” they cried. “Come forth, 
you teacher of swine!” and they shook the wooden railings 
which fenced in his garden. 

Before their united force the palings gave way, and they 
rushed up the garden unheedingly, treading the flowers and 
shrubs under foot. 

On the doorsteps they encountered a number of people 
grouped about. 

Here the miserable people bad come in their anguish and de- 
spair, strong in the belief that the rabbi was protected by Jeho- 
vah himself, and that they, by coming within the precincts of 
their teacher’s dwelling, could take no harm. 

The blood-stained wretches, however, paid no more heed to 
those unfortunates than they had done to the tender plants and 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 73 

sweet-scented flowers which they had wantonly trodden under 
foot. 

They fell upon the little group, flinging them right and left, 
trampling on those who remained in their way. 

They burst open the front door with a loud crash. All was 
dark within; but they speeaily brought a light and set to work 
with a will to pillage and destroy. 

In one thing they were disappointed. He whom they 
sought was nowhere to be found. The rabbi had made good 
his escape. 

Thanks to its isolation — it being situated furthest from the 
village —the house occupied by Rachel and Mira had as yet es- 
caped from the general attack. 

The two women had early retired in-doors, and had made the 
house secure against vulgar intrusion, They little thought that 
scenes of murder and rapine were being enacted lower down in 
the village. 

They were seated up-stairs, afraid to retire to rest, for now 
and then strange cries and shouts in the distance faintly smote 
ti.eir ears. 

Presently some one knocked at the door. 

The women started. 

“Could it be Geza?” thought Mira. “No, or he would have 
called out his name.” 

“ Who is there V” called out the mother, as the summons was 
repeated, more peremptorily than before. 

“ A friend. Open,” replied a strange voice. 

“1 know not your voice; who are you?” answered Rachel 
with some alarm. 

“ I come from the rabbi. There is not a moment to lose; so 
open the door quickly.” 

Racliel went down-stairs and cautiously peeped through a 
chink in the window shutters. 

She saw a man in a caftan standing outside and alone. 

“ Open, or it will be too late,” went on the man impatiently. 
“ I have a message from the rabbi.” 

Rachel drew back the bolts and opened the door, admitting a 
man dressed in the garb of an orthodox Jew. 

He was a perfect stranger, Rachel started from him in 
alarm. “Be not alarmed, mother,” he said assuringly. “I 
have come to your assistance. There are dreadful doings in the 
village down yonder. The fiends are slaughtering our people 
by the score. They have wrecked the rabbi’s house, and he 
bade me come here to warn you. You must seize what valu- 
ables you can and fly on the instant. Fear not; I will assist 
you.” 

Rachel was too prostrated by the news to say a word. 

She understood now the meaning of those unusual shouts, 
those strange cries, and down below she could see light after 
light going up to the sky. She buried her face in her hands; it 
was too dreadful. 

She did not feel that the man had snatched the keys from her 


THE RABBVS SPELL. 


U 

Bide, and she was unaware that he had opened the safe which 
stood in the corner, and was rifling it of its contents. 

But there he stood, filling his pockets with the rolls of notes 
which the safe contained. 

He had discovered a book in his search, a large red- bound 
ledger, and he was running his fingers hurriedly through the 
leaves. Jn his haste the book slipped from his grasp and fell 
heavily to the floor. 

It awoke Rachel from her despair. She turned round and 
took in the situation at a glance. 

“ Thief r’ she cried out, seizing him by the arm. “ Coward, 
to rob your own people. Thief! help!” 

“ Fool!” he answered with an oath. “ Perhaps that will quiet 
you,” and he drove a long pqinted dagger into her breast. 

She gave a death-shriek, and fell writhing upon the floor. 

Mira, attracted by her mother’s cries, sped quickly down- 
stairs. She was met at the foot by the strange man. 

*• Silence!” he hissed in her ears; “ as you value your life, be 
quiet,” and he tightly grasped her by the wrist. 

“ Where is my mother ? What have you done with her?” asked 
Mira, in accents of alarm. 

“ Be quiet; your mother is here.” 

She caught sight of the prostrate form as he spoke, and she 
saw a stream of blood trickling across the sanded floor. 

“ You have murdered her, you villain,” she said, with a loud 
shriek. ‘*Help! help!” 

Tlie man mocked her. 

I will silence you, you pretty jade,” he muttered, and, with 
a lustful look in his eyes, lie seized her round the waist, 

She struggled and shrieked, but her breath was leaving her, 
her head was going round and round: he was getting the mas- 
tery over her. Oh, would no one come and save her ? 

No answer came to her appeals, only the shouts of the blood- 
stained wretches who, with flaring torches in their hands and 
Bacchanalian songs on their lips, were coming nearer and 
near(‘r. 

But what is that? 

Some one is coming swiftly up the gravel path. He has en- 
tered the room, but they, struggling over there together, do not 
see him. There is a wild, hard look in his eye, and his lips are 
pressed firmly together. 

He has in his hand an iron bar which he has picked up from 
the hearth. It is almost too heavy for him, for he is evidently 
very weak. 

But with a strong, determined effort he raises it above his 
head, then down it comes with a sickening crash upon the head 
of the debased scoundrel who is holding the girl in his arms. 
The arms relax, the body quivers, and bleeding and senseless 
he falls backw^ard. 

“ Geza!” 

And turning, Mira threw herself upon her lover’s breast. 

It was he who had arrived at this o})portune moment. 

Oh, the rapture of that embrace! Their joy was, however, 


THE RABBITS SPELL. 75 

but short-lived, for a firm hand upon Geza’s shoulders awoke 
them to the awful realities of the situation. 

Geza turned and encountered the rabbi. 

“Come with me,” he said firmly. “Not a moment must be 
wasted; a few minutes more and that mob of godless fiends will 
be upon us.” 

Louder came the yells, and nearer sounded the trampling of 
feet. 

“Come — to the woods; we shall be safe there.” 

“ But my mother?” moaned Mira. 

“ Your duty lies with the living; you cannot help the dead. 
Come.” 

He stooped over the body of the senseless man. The wig of 
false curls which he had worn had become displaced, and there 
were displayed the white sinister features of Nevikoff, the spy. 

“ Take these; they will be needed,” said the rabbi, handing Geza 
the notes which had rolled out of the spy’s pocket when he fell. 

Fastening the front door, so as to prevent their being followed, 
they made good their escape by the back. 

Not a minute too soon, for the mob was already outside and 
in the garden. 

“ Down with the spawn of Aaron, the huckster; down with 
them!” yelled these Christian lambs. 

They knocked and battered at the door, but received no re- 
sponse. One whisky-sodden lout, impatient at the delay, flung 
his torch. It fell on the thatched roof, and in a moment the 
liouse was ablaze. 

Disappointed in their anticipations of spoil, the intoxicated 
wretches flung their torches one after the other at the burning 
building, dancing in mad glee round and round the while. 

They paused in their wild revelry. Some one was crying for 
help inside that burning house. 

“ Help! help! I am a Christian,” they heard some one cry out 
despairingly; and, as they looked, they saw a pale, terrified face 
at the window, in an agony of beseechment. 

Too late! 

Crash went the roof; and, with a shriek that rose clear above 
the din, the murderer fell by the side of his victim, and both 
were consumed in one funeral pyre. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE WORKING OF THE SPELL. 

“ The anniversary of his death,” repeated the count to him- 
self over and over again, and be helped himself copiously to the 
ivodJci which stood close by, as if he would drown all recollec- 
tion of that event. 

Presently he nodded, then his eyes closed, and he fell into a 
fitful slumber. 

Evidently he was not favored with pleasant dreams; for at 
times he would start and tremble, and his hands frantically 
clutch at space, while his eyes would open, staring vacantly 
about him, without sight oi* comprehension. Again, he would 


76 


THE RABBPS SPELL. 


lie quite still, as if life for the time being were actually sus- 
pended. This state was generally followed by intense shiver- 
ing and the emission of faint, labored moans. 

So the time went by. The wood in the fire had burned itself 
out, and the lamp for want of trimming was very low, emitting 
a dull red light. 

“ What is that?” and the count awoke with a start, as the 
old clock standing in the corner near to where he sat slowdy 
struck the hour of midnight. 

“Blood! blood! blood!” he shrieked, as he, half-asleep yet, 
saw the red stream of light reflectedl on the carpet from the ex- 
piring lamp. 

“Take it away. Do you hear me? Take it away, I say. I 
cannot bear it,” and he buried his face in his hands. 

In a little while he recovered himself, and with a start he 
jumped from his chair. 

“ What ails me? I’ve been dreaming. Ugh, what a dream!” 
and he gave an unmistakable shudder. 

“Good Heaven, how late it is! Twelve o’clock; no fire, and 
the lamp half out. And where is Nevikoff ?” 

He looked about the room as if half-expecting to see the spy 
standing in submissive attitude awaiting his commands. 

“ How cold it is!” he added with a shiver, and he helped him- 
self to a glass of spirit. The liquor coursed through his veins 
like fire. In a moment he felt himself another man. 

“ That’s better,” he said, wfith a show of satisfaction. “ Noth- 
ing like wodki for cold and nerves,” he said, refilling his glass. 
“Bah! how nervous that dream made me,” and he gave a short 
hysterical laugh, pouring the spirit down his throat w^heii ho 
had finished. 

“ What’s this?” 

A notQ wdiich his careful servant had left on the table whilst 
he was asleep attracted his attention. 

He opened the cover with trembling fingers, for despite his 
attempt to pull himself together his nerves were all ajar. 

“ So they have released the man,” he muttered as he perused 
the contents of the note. “ This release may mean trouble to 
me. If he sees the book with the entry, he may make inquiries, 
and an inquiry would be devilish awkward for me. Devilish 
awkward.” 

The last words, pronounced with strong emphasis, echoed 
through the room, and, in the intense silence which prevailed, 
it seemed as if the Prince of Darkness, hearing his name taken 
in vain, were repeating them in mockery. 

The count turned with a start. 

“ I am getting afraid of my own voice,’' he muttered with a 
feeling of self-condemnation. “ Why did Prince Krinitza want 
to interfere in the matter? In what way did it concern him? 
He is himself a veritable Nihilist, with his free way of thinking, 
and his practical sympathy with what he terms the oppressed. 
If one only dared — but no, he is too powerful, and the czar 
would never be convinced. 

“He is an extraordinary man, though,” he continued, as if 


THE RABBVS SPELL, 


11 

tiiiising with himself, Those eyes — the}" seem to look through 
and through one ; and I, who have been given up as a hopeless 
subject by all the so-called mesmerists in the country, felt, 
directly he looked at me, that he could read my thoughts. ‘ You 
are a good subject,’ he said with a penetrating glance. * May I 
experiment with you?’ Of course everybody wanted to see it 
done. Rare fun. no doubt, to see some one read the thoughts 
of Nic, Soltikoff, Nic. the Devil, as some familiarly call me. 
Even the czar himself seemed pleased with the idea, and so I 
was bound to consent.” 

All this time the count was gazing into space, and speaking 
in a slow, measured tone, as if he were addressing an audience, 
rather than as if he were holding communion with himself. 

“ ‘ Imagine you have murdered some one,’ lie said, all at once, 
I started, I know I did; but how could I help it? Why should 
he suggest such a thing? ‘Have you thought?’ he asked. ‘Of 
what, of whom ?’ I replied. ‘ Of your victim.’ ‘ Victim, what 
victim ? I have no victims.’ ‘ Of course not,’ he added with a 
smile — such a smile it was, like the fascination of a serpent’s 
glance— ‘it is only in phantasy. Come, think of anyone you 
like in this room. Here is a knife; it has already done a mur- 
der,’ he said, as he placed a weapon in my hand. I nearly 
dropped it; for it burnt me as if with fire. It was Geza Polin- 
ski's knife. How came he with it? I afterward learnt that the 
czar expressed the idea that the scene might be made more 
realistic by the employment of such a weapon. But who sug- 
gested the idea to the czar? I know. ‘ Come, count,' he said, 
taking me by the hand, brace up pr your nervousness will de- 
stroy the effect! Are your thoughts concentrated upon your 
victim, and upon the way in which you wish to murder him?’ 
lie asked; and how earnestly he looked at me! ‘Quite,’ I re- 
plied, with firmness, for by this time I had fully entered into the 
experiment, and the novelty of the idea excited and moved me 
strangely. Then he blindfolded himself and pressed my left 
hand to his forehead. Madly we rushed across the room; he 
witli my left hand pressed to his brow, and I with the knife held 
firmly in my right hand. He soon found the object of my 
thoughts. It was the mayor president. He was the man who 
in my imagination I had to murder. But no sooner did we 
reach him than he faded away. Another man stood in his 
place. It was the form of Aaron, the Jew. I struck at him 
with fury, full at his heart; but my wrist was caught in an in- 
stant as if in a vise. ‘ Enough!’ said Prince Bela, sternly; and I 
thought I could see his eyes black and blazing through the 
blindfold itself. ‘ You seem to have a desire to murder in real 
earnest; in another moment and our excellent friend the mayor 
president would have been a dead man,’ A dead man? Was 
not the man wdiom I struck at already dead? Dead! dead! dead! 
and the count gave a low chuckle. What did he mean then by 
coming before me in that way? 

“ Ah! God; there he is again,” and with a shriek he fixed hie 
eyes in the direction of the window, 

“ Nevikoffl” (no answer), 


THE RABBI'S SPELL. 




Nevikoff !” (still no answer). 

He little thought that be upon whom he called would never 
hearken to his voice any more; but who, hurled into eternity 
with the weight of his sins full upon him, might in spirit be even 
then shrieking for mercy and praying for forgiveness. 

“MeshonedI” 

His servant was asleep or did not hear him, as no response 
came to his summons. 

“ Meshoned, take the man away.” 

His voice was dry and husky, and the wild look in his eyes 
was horrible to behold. 

There was no answer, only the echo of his strained voice ring- 
ing through the stillness. 

‘‘ Meshoned, I say,” and he seized the long red bell-pull and 
snatched at it furiously. 

It broke in his hand, and with a heavy thud he fell prostrate 
on the floor. 

For a few minutes the count lay there as if stunned by his fall; 
then he raised himself, the bell-pull still in his hand. 

He reached out'and seized the spirit flagon, and, without wait- 
ing to first fill his glass, poured a quantity of the fiery liquid 
down his throat. 

By that act his strength and courage momentarily revived, 
and he glared about him fiercely, as if in search of the specter 
of his disordered fancy. 

No, the vision was not in the room, and he chuckled inwardly 
at the thought. 

But what is that— that over there in the far corner by the 
window ? 

“Look, Count Nic., Nic. the devil; look, my good friend,” 
some one seemed to whisper to the haunted man. 

He did look, and his eyes dilated with renewed horror. 

Then the ivodki mounted to his head, and he made a rush for 
the spot, where the form of the murderea man stood as if mock- 
ing him. His outstretched arms, however, encountered noth- 
ing, and he found himself face to face with the bare wall. 

But the specter had only shifted his position. There he stood 
close by the fireplace. 

The count could see him well, for the red glow of the lamp 
was full upon his face. There was, too, a sardonic smile upon 
his face, and he was beckoning to him as if in wanton idleness. 

This was too much for the count. The hot blood mounted to 
his forehead and the veins stood out like knotted whip-cord. 
The vision stung him into fury. 

He made one end of the cord into a running noose, and bound 
the other end round his wrist. He would lasso the ghost; and, 
when the hard cord was round its neck, he would pull it and 
pull it until the life was wholly choked out of it. 

But he must proceed cautiously, be must approach the ghostly 
visitor by stealth; so, creeping noiselessly along, he approached 
to where the old Jew’s double stood beckoning to him. 

His hand is raised, and as quick as thought the noose is flung 


THE HAEBPS SPELL. 79 

forward. It falls not on the ghost but on a china ornament, 
which comes with a crash to the ground. 

But where is his tormentor? The count has not far to look. 
There he stands by the clock, and the wretched man, in his 
fancy, hears a gleeful chuckle coming from his lips. 

Stung to madness by his failure, and with the spirit mounting 
higher and higher in his head, he determines to rid himself of 
that baneful presence. 

He does not approach the form stealthily this time. Why 
should he? The Jew is an old mao, and he must soon tire him 
out; so he makes a sudden rush in the direction of the clock. 
But the form escapes him and he grasps nothing but air. 

Not to be baffled, however, he pursues the specter. Round, 
round they go. The ghost is always just ahead of the count, 
who strains every nerve to come up to him, but all in vain. 

Now the old man is at the door; he has paused. The count 
halts too; this time he cannot escape him; so, making ready his 
noose, he prepares for another throw. 

But it is only for a second that the figure pauses there. He 
has passed beneath the hanging curtains which screen the door- 
way, and still beckoning to his pursuer he disappears. 

“ He shall not escape me,” hissed the count between his 
clinched teeth; and with an oath on his lips, and the noose 
ready to cast, he rushed madly from the room. 

Whither? 


CHAPTER XVI. 

AS 'TWAS WRITTEN, SO ’TWAS READ. 

A SHRIEK, the cry of a lost soul, awoke, in its horrible shrill- 
ness, the woody stillness. 

The Jewish outcasts crouching amongst the bushes in hiding 
from their Christian assailants heard it with alarm. The night 
birds awoke and flapped their wings in wondering inquiry, 
whilst an owl echoed the sound w ith a long mournful hoot. 

Then silence reigned. 

* * * * * * * 

The night had passed, and a rosy flush was spreading itself 
over the eastern sky when the wmod awoke to life. 

The birds burst forth into song, and the wild boar pushed 
about restlessly in the covert in search of food. 

The w^oodmen w^ent their w^ay along the old familiar paths, 
armed wdth saw and ax. 

On a branch of the beech tree a raven sat and croaked. Dis- 
mal was his note. Four men, wralking two and two, crossed 
themselves as they heard it. They w^ere the same men who dis- 
covered the body of the murdered Aaron. 

“ By the holy St. George, wdiat is this?” said one of the men 
as they reached the tree, pointing to a dark mass swinging from 
the branches. 

By way of answer the raven croaked the louder, A supersti- 
tious awe fell over the men, and they recrossed themselves with 
additional vigor, 


80 


THE EAEErs SPELL. 


One of them, as if seized with a sudden inspiration, broke 
away and ran with headlong speed to the place where the Jew- 
ish outcasts were encamped, leaving his companions to solve 
the mystery how they might. 

He quickly told his tale, and, as the news spread the wretched 
people in their excitement forgot their woes and hastily flocked 
to the spot where the raven croaked a funeral dirge. 

The rabbi, Mira, and Geza, who bad been companions in the 
wood throughout the dreary night, were amongst the first to 
reach the tree. 

“Climb and cut it down,” said the rabbi, in a commanding 
voice, handing an open knife to one of the woodmen. 

Hand over hand climbed the man, until he rested on a fork of 
the tree. The knife flashed in the sunlight, and with a heavy 
thud the dark swaying mass fell to the ground. 

It was the body of Count Nicolas Soltikoff. 

Round his heck, twisted in a fantastic knot, was the red bell- 
pull. He had been dead some time, and his soul had evidently 
gone to its last account when that dreadful, never-to-be-forgot- 
ten yell had echoed through the wood. 

Upon his face there was an expression of the deepest horror; 
his death had undoubtedly been a painful one. 

What perplexed the bystanders was how he had come there. 
What could have induced him to have come to this tree in order 
to take his own life ? 

“The hand of the Lord is in this,” said the rabbi solemnly, as 
he viewed the count's distorted features. 

“ Behold in this man the murderer of Aaron Bosinsky.’’’ 

“ The murderer of Aaron Rosinsky ?” echoed the crowd won- 
deringly. 

“ Ay, his murderer. For a time the innocent suffered, but 
Jehovah is ever just, and no man can withstand His wrath. 
Verily He bath smitten the murderer and evil-doer with His 
own hand.” 

The old man bowed his head humbly as if in prayer. 

“See you this?” he said, rousing himself and pointing with 
his staff to the Hebraic inscription on the tree. 

“By His inspiration I wrote it, and by His will it has been 
fulfilled.” 

And in a clear voice he read out the mystic words: 






Which, translated, ran as follows: 




THE MABBrS SPELL. 


81 


He 

who hath done 
this bloody tiling 
shall on this 
very spot render 
up his own 
life. 

‘‘Lord, Thy will he done,” he said as he finished, and the 
words found "response in the hearts of every one present. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

AT LAST. 

It was spring-time, the period of promise and of hope. 

Brightly shone the sun on the white-crested waves of the noble 
St. Lawrence as an Allan steamer entered the gulf. Glad and 
inviting looked the hills on either side of the friendly shores, as 
the ship, with all canvas set, sped lightly before the wind. 

It was heavily laden, though, for it carried close upon a thou- 
sand souls — mostly poor Hebrew folk freed from the tyranny of 
the Russ, and bound for a home and a future amongst the most 
hospitable people in the world, the Canadians. 

On the deck three persons stood apart from the rest, with eyes 
eagerly strained toward the promised land. 

The group consisted of an old man with snowy locks and full 
white beard, a girl in the first flush of her wifehood, and a man 
young in years but sadly aged in looks. 

“ xit last, Mira love,” said the young man as he espied the 
land of liberty and hope in the purple distance* 

“ At last,” echoed his companions. 

At lasti 

[the end.] 



Munro’s Lilrary 

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J*. O* Box 364:3. 24 and 26 Vandewater St.^ N. Y. 


The following works are for sale bj the Newsdealer 
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